An American Geek in Halkeginia
by Inner Legions
Summary: An American takes what should have gone to a young man from another culture. Typical, just typical.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Divide by Cucumber Error**

"I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar."

It was a simple formula, given from Brimir himself, and the only changes through millennia were the necessary ones of translation as new languages arose.

It would certainly have been lost to the sands of time, as had so very much, except that it _worked_. Every year without fail, young mages recited the incantation, and every year they were rewarded with familiars well-suited to them.

It was taken as an enduring proof that the mages yet enjoyed the favor of their most ancient Saint, for who but a divine spirit could ensure such harmonious matchings of mage and familiar?

And indeed, it required keen discernment on the part of _something_. Let that something, dear reader, be known to you as the Arbiter.

Normally, the Arbiter's function was simple enough. Examine the inner desires of the heart of the supplicant mage, and find a familiar that would resonate with those desires and the elemental affinity of the mage, ensuring that the powers of the familiar, as they developed, would be a harmonious fit with the mage for whom the familiar was summoned.

Except that this time the elemental affinity of the supplicant was . . . well, this was the _real_ reason Brimir had conjured and bound the Arbiter to his design. Different protocols were to apply.

It was so rare for the Arbiter's true purpose to be invoked. Each year it might judge hundreds of supplicants, but it could be decades, or even centuries, between applications of the _special_ protocols.

The Arbiter didn't particularly care: Boredom was not in its nature. Nor did it rejoice for this chance to perform its true purpose. It was not a mortal creature, to be born, to strive, to hold off death for a time. Its urges were entirely bound up in carrying out Brimir's design, and they were nothing like human instinct or emotion. The Arbiter did not _need_ emotion: It had purpose. Inactivity did not erode that, and purpose had been called upon.

This time, the Arbiter sought passion. Intelligence had been acceptable in past choices, but passion was the key in _this_ aspect of Brimir's design. The awareness of the Arbiter reached out through the world, and so the sorting began.

Innate magic disqualified this particular type of candidate as incompatible - a number of the candidates were removed from consideration. Bonds already on the heart would interfere with the new bond that must develop - most of the rest of the candidates were removed. The Arbiter considered the remainder, and hesitated.

It would seem that passion and a hatred of those who wielded magic went hand-in-hand. The bond would not form properly under such conditions. All but a handful of the candidates were discarded. The final remainder . . .

Passion and freedom to form a new bond, yes. Their other qualities were either lacking or a poor fit. The Arbiter considered the remaining few candidates, brought up tertiary criteria, reconsidered, and-

The moment had ended. It had not yet selected the candidate, but the moment had ended. That was not supposed to happen. It lacked the ability to self-recriminate, but it also lacked the ability to set its failure aside. It was locked into a loop of consideration of the final handful, and could not even care to wonder how long it would be-

"_I, Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, in the name of the great Five Pentagon Powers, following my fate, summon a familiar!"_

It had been invoked again. The raw desperation of the supplicant flooded through it, increasing its potency. The Arbiter's awareness expanded across time and space, and where the barriers between continua were weaker than normal, it was able to discern new candidates. _Many_ new candidates.

Passion? Oh, yes. Tightly constrained, but all the more potent for it. A willingness to conform to imposed circumstances? Common. Love of magic and those who wield it? Not just love, practically worship!

No time to sort through the possibilities, and no need. Many of them would be suitable. The Arbiter selected the first one that fit its criteria adequately, and-

. . .

Error. This was not the one selected. It would be incompat-

Purpose completed, the Arbiter resumed a state of quiescence, waiting until the next time it was invoked.


	2. Unfamiliar Surroundings I

**Unfamiliar Surroundings, Part I**

Let's contemplate a boy named Hiraga Saito. I promise it won't take long. According to his records, he was an average boy, with no positives or negatives. Of course, that was utter nonsense: Average doesn't exist, not like that. Still, in the high-pressure environment of Japanese social expectations, he'd so far managed to avoid drawing too much attention. You _might_ say that he was a tabula rasa, the passive void upon which so much fiction depended, allowing readers or viewers to project themselves into stories with little disruption.

At the age of seventeen, he had yet to have a girlfriend. Unfortunately, it seemed that being a nobody precluded female attention. As it so happens, it was the fear of languishing in lifelong lackanookie that brought him passing by a particular street at a particular time.

If a girlfriend was not available at school, then there was always online dating. Online, who could say what was truth and what was falsehood? Of course, to get online he'd needed his laptop repaired. This accomplished, he was heading home.

It was just past the train station when something strange happened. A flat oval, shining like a mirror, suddenly appeared in front of him. Again, average doesn't really exist when talking about people. Saito was on the slow side, but he was curious enough to make up for it. This mirror caught his interest.

It was maybe two meters tall and a meter wide, and floated a few centimeters above the ground. All in all, this was _very_ strange, so he stopped to look at it.

Then the gaijin stepped forward. Tall and fat, like most Americans only moreso, his barbaric face was twisted in obvious delight.

"Mirror projection?" the gaijin asked - in English! - while walking around the oval. "No, unless-" he knelt down and waved a hand under the oval. "Nope!" Then he stood back up and waved his hand over the top.

"No wires and no shadows!" He sure was loud. Saito only made average grades, so he could just barely follow what the gaijin was saying. Why couldn't he speak Japanese like a civilized person? With the backpack and the dufflebags he was clearly a tourist - where was his guide? Saito watched MTV like any normal boy, so he knew all about Americans. Why were they allowing an American gaijin to run around like a regular person? If he got excited he might pull out his guns and start shooting everywhere!

Saito shook his head and walked on. If his computer got shot he would have to get it repaired again, and he didn't have enough yen left for that. Finding a cute girlfriend would be a lot safer than hanging around a crazy gaijin.

* * *

Meanwhile the gaijin(who hadn't even noticed Saito) had confirmed that the mirror-oval wasn't being held up by magnetics, because it hadn't scrambled his phone. This was good indeed - it was an expensive phone - but he was running out of explanations for the mystery.

Had someone figured out large-scale laser projection? The oval _could_ be a plasma sustained by focusing a laser on a specific point of air - but he hadn't felt any heat. He shifted both dufflebags to his left hand and slowly poked at the oval. No radiant heat at all. A cool plasma? How did someone manage _that_? He was expecting a static shock at some point, but it never happened. His forefinger was now knuckle-deep in the silvered surface, and nothing was happening-

The surface of the oval surged forward and enveloped him entirely.

* * *

He seemed to be high above the courtyard of a massive castle. And it was getting bigger. Quickly.

_Falling!_

. . .

_Falling?_

. . .

_Eyes say yes, inner ear says no. Must be just an image, like IMAX._ His stomach quieted a little at this, and he waited more-or-less calmly to see what would happen next.

Which was a sudden impact on the ground that had been rushing towards him, raising dust into his nose, then into his mouth as he started to sneeze. Ow! Sonovabitch! And yuck, that dirt tasted like dung!

The small cloud of dust settled as he spat out as much as he could and looked up.

_Very_ pretty face. Pale skin, no epicanthic folds, light strawberry-blond hair that was practically pink. She blinked - pink _eyes_? Yeah, she had pale skin, but he wouldn't have said albino.

A quick glance down showed no discernible chest. Okay, either she was jailbait or "she" was a very pretty "he". Also, she looked shocked.

She got up, ran to a grownup, and started yelling at him, waving her arms. Behind them, someone said something and the crowd burst into laughter.

Oh, hey, there was a crowd. Teenagers dressed up for Renfaire, each with a strange pet-

Giant red lizard with tail on fire! Next to a busty redhead laughing louder than anyone else. Normally his mind would have filed her away under: Hot girl with large tits; to hit on or fantasize about as soon as possible. Normally. His mind was too busy focusing on the honest-to-goodness _pokemon_ next to her. Oh, and the blue dragon on her other side, standing protectively over the girl with the staff and the book. Wait, _what was that?_

Staff. All of them were holding something that could be described as a staff or a wand. Well, except the guy with the rose, the blond one cooing over the big hairy brown ball.

What the hell _was_ this, some weird Harry Potter / Pokemon crossover LARP? He felt sore all over from the impact, but he pushed himself to all fours, then straightened up with a groan to a kneeling position to get a better look and maybe even stand-

The pretty androgyne was back. Kneeling, he was just barely shorter than . . . her? She couldn't be much more than 5 feet tall. Before he could react she had a firm grip on his cheeks - soft fingers, cool fire spreading across his face - and was saying something in a firm voice.

She wasn't speaking Japanese. He didn't speak it very well, but he knew what it sounded like, and this wasn't it. Her language sounded a little like French. Maybe. It had been a long time since that semester in 8th grade.

She finished her speech, and then leaned towards him. Some of her hair fell over his face, bringing a smell of flower-scented soaps and maybe a hint of _girl_. It had clearly been _way_ too long since he'd had a girlfriend if she was affecting him this much just by-

Definitely too long. The kiss was hesitant, but the shock of it - the softness of her lips, the scent of her exhalation into his mouth - sent heat and desire all through his body.

_I hope she _is_ a girl-_

_Down, moron! Figure out what's going on _before_ we worry about the jailbait!_

She'd pulled back and had straightened up, looking at him expectantly. His lips were still tingling, he was still flushed with heat, if anything he was feeling even hotter . . .

Hot nothing, he was burning! This was worse than a sauna! Steam started to rise from his body, every nerve was yelling for relief, and suddenly PAIN! as runes etched themselves on his hand-

The girl looked down on him in frustrated fury as he screamed and collapsed. The laughter behind her was louder than ever.

Then everything floated away on a sea of agony . . .


	3. Another Voice: Secretary

**Another Voice: Secretary**

The office of the Headmaster occupied the highest floor of the tallest tower. The Headmaster's desk was large, comfortable, and extremely elegant.

As it so happened, there was a second desk in the room. Somewhat smaller, rather less elegant, and _much_ less comfortable, it was reserved for the secretary.

She was quite busy that afternoon, copying form letter after form letter from an enchanted wax tablet onto high-quality silk paper, then filling in the blanks with the names of students, their new familiars, and so on. The Headmaster was calling them out as the familiars were summoned, effectively acting as _her_ assistant. For once.

She had a new letter ready to go when the Headmaster sighed, stepped away from the window to his desk, and pulled out his favorite pipe.

_What could possibly have him so stressed? _she wondered, massaging her hand. _We've already had a salamander for the Germanian girl, what's more trouble than-_

"Headmaster Osmond, is it the Vallière girl?"

"I'm afraid so, Miss Longueville." He returned to the window and took a deep puff from the pipe. "She seems to be trying a second time."

Sometimes, if it didn't work the first time, a second attempt, or even a third, might be successful. _Sometimes_.

He started pacing back and forth, and she rolled her eyes. Today was going to be one of _those_-

A sharp impact came from behind her - stone on knuckles - and the old man withdrew a bruised hand that had wandered far too close to her backside. Shortly after that, an angry squeaking came from under the desk, as a mouse fled the tiny dust devil that had assaulted it.

"Mótsognir! Poor thing . . . must you be so cruel to an innocent creature, Miss Longueville?"

She clenched her teeth. _One more of your little tricks, you old pervert, and I'm taking the pipe away for two weeks!_ If it were _anyone_ else, they'd have some respect for a mage's right to refuse unwanted attention. Osmond, on the other hand, had the power and skill to get away with it like no one else.

"I fear I shall have to write her parents personally," he finally said, stepping to his desk and sitting down. "This will require great delicacy."

Given the situation, a letter written in any hand but his own would be an insulting dismissal. She was glad enough to leave him to it as she considered the new dietary requirements and how to best fit them into the budget.

The Headmaster's quill was still busy when the door opened up and one of the instructors - a Mr. Colbert, if she recalled correctly - rushed inside. "Headmaster! I have some disturbing news about Miss Vallière!"

"Yes, I know, she failed to cast-"

"No, sir! Well, yes, she failed, but she eventually succeeded, and-"

"She did? That is excellent news, is it not?"

"Why, because we won't have to deal with angry parents?" Mr. Colbert shook his head. "We might have to anyway. She summoned a _commoner_."

"A _what_?"

"A commoner. By his coloring, I'd say a peasant from one of the northern Germanian provinces - ruddy skin, muddy hair and eyes - but he doesn't look nearly inbred enough. Or small enough."

"Oh?"

"He's big. _Huge_. Like what you'd get if a heavy infantryman married a rich merchant's daughter and they raised their son on steak and honey. I daresay he's never seen a hungry winter in his life."

"And you are certain that he was actually summoned?"

Mr. Colbert shrugged. "The binding was successful."

"Then that answers that." Headmaster Osmond frowned. "This will require even greater delicacy than I thought."

"Headmaster?"

"A human familiar is unique. We don't know what element is represented, and we don't know what powers it might have. Her parents, no matter how concerned, must be convinced to avoid interfering until we have had a chance to learn all we can."

"Ah. Um . . . the binding gesture was a kiss. On the lips."

"_Supreme_ delicacy." The headmaster rubbed his temples. "Was there anything else?"

"No - wait, yes. Some sort of design appeared on the commoner's hand. I'd say writing, but they weren't Romalian letters."

The headmaster looked up. "An unknown script? Check the Fenrir archives. Romalian letters have only been universal in Halkeginia for the last thousand years or so. You may be able to find a match in the older documents."

"Of course. By your leave, Headmaster?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

As the instructor left, Osmond took one look at what he'd written and tossed it aside. He sat there, muttering to himself and puffing furiously.

The secretary sighed to herself. _He's going to be absolutely impossible to work with until this is settled._


	4. Unfamiliar Surroundings II

**Unfamiliar Surroundings, Part II**

There was something scratching the back of his neck. He rolled over as he opened his eyes and saw straw.

It smelled fresh, with a hint of a pleasant fragrance, and triggered a memory that in medieval dining halls, fresh straw laced with fragrant herbs would be placed on the floor right before a feast. He looked around.

It wasn't a hall. It was a sizable bedroom. Wooden floor, wooden walls (dark and carved for the first few feet, then lighter and featureless up to the ceiling), wooden ceiling. Elaborate wood/glass window panels. Wooden armoire. There was a small table with two chairs in the same darker shade of wood, probably a hardwood that would last for decades-

He flinched as the girl started talking behind him. She was looking down on him disdainfully as he turned - oh, hey, his luggage! - to face her. Arms folded, she moved past him towards the canopy bed(yes, hardwood, he had yet to see any plastic around here) as she continued her speech.

_If that's a tonal language, I'm going to need some time to get used to it. If it isn't . . . I don't think she likes me._

Time to hope that she was at least mildly reasonable.

He stood up and assumed a patient expression as she continued to babble. Then he cleared his throat, loudly.

She whirled to glare at him, took a deep breath-

He opened his mouth, pointed to it, pointed to his ear, and shook his head.

Anger was replaced by confusion.

"We don't speak the same language." He repeated the pantomime, then lifted an eyebrow. "Comprende?"

She said something again - this time it sounded annoyed - and turned to open the armoire.

He rolled his eyes. Come on, he'd read stories with this pattern a dozen times, the feisty-but-practical girl was supposed to come to the right conclusion pretty quickly.

Crossing to the table, he cleared his throat again, earning another glare. "Table," he said. "Chair. Lamp." Each time he touched the object in question. Then he looked at her, eyebrows raised.

Her words were fast and furious, and too many to be the names he needed. He exaggerated a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Table," he said again, touching the table and pointing at his mouth. Then he pointed at her mouth and tapped on the table.

This time she just let out a small scream of frustrated rage and yanked her armoire open.

_Maybe I should have started with my name? No, too much potential for confusion - she might think I'm asking about our gender names, or our respective statuses, or something weirder._

"Look, I get that this is frustrating for you, but-"

She whirled back around, eyes blazing and wand out. He didn't have time to react before she spat out three _furious_ words. His world went dark as he flew back.

* * *

"Oh well, at least it shut you up."

His eyes shot open. She'd just turned back to the armoire, and smoke was pouring out of the now-open window. He must not have been out for more than a few seconds. She was pulling out a nightgown, which she lay over the back of a chair. He opened his mouth and-

Shut it as she began to unbutton her shirt. Yeah, he understood her that time, but she'd probably do worse than knock him on his ass if he startled her right now. Best to pretend that he was still out.

It would be easier to pretend if he closed his eyes. Yes. Of course it would.

_Damn._

He was going to go to the special hell. Possibly in the next few minutes, if she glanced over and saw that he was watching, but the same tingling rush from the kiss was back, his breath was caught in his throat, and he couldn't _begin_ to tear his gaze from the exquisite, breathtaking-

_Get ahold of yourself! Okay, she has dainty hips and at least a little breast, the whole package looks pretty good, the carpet matches the drapes and has the cutest little DAMMIT, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER, IDIOT!_

_Don't we realize just how much of a miracle it will be if she's 18? Besides, wasn't the busty redhead more to our liking?_

. . . .

_What do we _mean_, 'not anymore'? What, all a girl has to do is kiss us and then knock us over with a spell to-_

_Oh. Harry Potter and Pokemon._

_This is _magic_, isn't it?_

. . . .

_Okay, maybe it's partly going through college with no time for a social life. We're going to blame the magic anyway._

_It _was_ a nice kiss, though._

She finally had her nightgown on, and snapped her fingers. The lamp shut off instantly. The room went darker, but moonlight - two moons! - streamed through the window.

_Probably time to 'wake up', unless I want to try to sleep like this. And it's getting cold._

He groaned. And put a hand to his head as she turned towards him once more.

"What did you _do_ to me, little lady?" It wouldn't do to call her anything crude, after all.

Gasp. "What did you say?"

He looked up at her. "Oh. That must have been a translation spell. Huh. I guess you don't cast it very often."

She looked down at him in disbelief. "It was a Silence spell! I couldn't even get _that_ right?"

He shrugged, then stood up. Yep. She didn't even come up to his shoulder, so she was 5 foot nil at best. "Well, it shut me up for a while, didn't it? And if you don't mind my saying so, little lady, a translatin' spell is a lot more convenient than spendin' the next few months pickin' up words here and there. So if it fades, I'll be thankin' you to blow me head over heels again."

_Are we trying to talk like a movie cowboy or something? Dammit, us. We need a term of address that doesn't come out of mid-20th century westerns._

_Although, for now it seems appropriate._

She looked thoughtful. "It might not fade. This could be one of your familiar powers."

"Familiar?"

"Yes. I said it earlier, but I've decided to keep you as my familiar, even if you are a commoner."

He smirked. "Little lady, I think you will find that there is very little that is _common_ about me."

"Oh? Can you do magic?"

_Hmmm. Did she just imply a magic-wielding elite as an exclusive power-holding minority over a mundane majority? I rather think she did. _Hmmm_. So is it a feudal or ministerial form of government? Find out later._

"Of course. My father taught me when I was young."

"He did?"

"Certainly." His grin grew wider as he pulled a nickel from his pocket. "For example, take a look at this coin. Hold it, feel it, make sure you know that it's a real coin."

She snapped the lamp back on, took the coin, and frowned in concentration. "That's not silver, is it?"

"No, I believe it's nickel."

"What's 'nickel'?"

"A metal. I don't remember which ore it comes from, though. I'm afraid that's not my area of study."

"You're a student?"

"I was, yes. Just finished my Master's Degree."

She wrinkled her nose. It was adora- stop that! "A master of _what_?"

"Computer science. I doubt that translated very well, though. Think of me as someone who teaches artificial minds how to perform specific tasks so that people aren't needed for them."

"_Minds_?" She looked uneasy.

"Not living things, little lady. More like clocks. Very, very complicated clocks. Later, if you like, I could build you a simple example to demonstrate. So, satisfied that it's a real coin?"

"I guess. You wouldn't get anything for it, though."

"Not here, no. I'm from pretty far away, I think. Alright, give me the coin back."

She handed it over.

"So, we know the coin is real," he said as he waved the coin back and forth, passing it from hand to hand. "So which fist is it in?" and he held up both fists, a few inches apart.

"That one, of course!" pointing at his left fist.

"Really?" He opened it up. No coin.

"How'd you get it in your other fist?"

"I didn't." He opened up his right fist. No coin there, either.

"What?"

_Okay, did she never see anyone do this trick before? In that case, might as well make a full show of it._ "Why do you think _I_ have it? You never gave it back to me."

"Yes I _did_!"

_She pulls off 'cute when you're angry' better than anyone we've ever seen._

_Down, boy. And stop grinning so much, it's starting to hurt, and it doesn't look good on us, anyway._

"Obviously not. _I_ don't have it."

She held up her hands. "Well, I don't _either_!"

"You must have hidden it somewhere. Open your mouth."

"Wha-"

"That'll work." He bent over, looking carefully inside. "Could you flatten your tongue so I can see all the way back?"

"Gnnnnnn!"

"Very nice. Well, since it's not there we'll have to check your nose next, so-"

"No!" She grabbed his mouth and _pulled_.

"Gaah!"

"Shut up! I'm checking _your_ mouth!"

He held his breath as she looked inside - no sense in making her smell dungbreath, maybe he should have washed his mouth first - and then tried to rip his nose apart.

Finally she let go. "I'd _know_ if it was in my nose! Where is it!"

"Well, if it's not in your nose, it must be in your ear."

"That's even sillier-" she cut off, trembling just a bit, as his finger traced along her cheek, moving long pink hair aside.

_Whatever whammy was in your kiss, you got some of it too, didn't you? I was hoping that'd be the case._

He tried not to think about where else he might persuade her to let him search. As a teenager he'd done this with a girl who'd been surprisingly and laughingly permissive about where his hands could wander with that particular excuse. It was a shame that her parents had gotten home early that night.

Not that the little lady was laughing. No, better to end this now.

A slight tug inside the ear and he pulled his hand back, holding up the coin triumphantly. "See? It was there all along!"

"No it wasn't! It's too big to fit in my ear!"

"I _told_ you it was magic."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know how you did that, but it _wasn't_ magic. You didn't incant and you didn't use a wand so it wasn't magic!"

He tilted his head. "You're right. It was just a trick. Obviously I managed to hide the coin in your ear when you gave it back to me."

Misdirection _was_ the key to stage magic, after all.

She pouted for a moment, then brightened up. "As your master, I command you to tell me how you did it!"

"A good magician never reveals his secrets for free. If you want to be my student, what are you willing to pay me with?"

_Okay, _that_ went a little too far. We're still pretty sure she's jailbait, remember? If she offers a kiss, take it in good humor, but don't angle for one or try for anything else, understood?_

"I'm not your student, I'm your master!"

"Then obviously you have nothing to learn from me." He broke eye contact and stepped around her, both relieved and disappointed. _If I'm _really_ unlucky she could be as young as 10. Probably not, unless they add an estrogen mimicker to the food around here, but this _is_ my first experience with an implanted loli fetish._

_Hell, or _any_ kind of implanted fetish._

_How would someone even _do_ that back on Earth? Hypnotism? With Rule 34 does that mean some people have a fetish for hypnotizing people to have new fetishes?_

_Wait, what was I thinking about?_

"What are you doing?" she demanded as he opened a dufflebag and pulled out a bottle.

_Oh, right. My 'mistress' and lolicon. Until I figure out how much this is affecting me I won't be able to trust my judgment around her. Shit. For all I know she _is_ 10._

"My mouth still tastes like dung from landing face-first earlier. I'm going to wash that out." He spotted an opening to a small chamber in the wall - yep, private washroom. Huh. It looked like they used magic in their toilets instead of water.

A minute later:

"Why are you making those ridiculous faces?"

He held up a finger as he completed his slow count to 30 and spat the mouthwash out into the sink. It had a drain but not a spigot, which meant that water was provided through other methods.

"That stuff feels like it's burning away the inside of your mouth. It gets it clean, but it's a little painful."

"Mint? Your breath smells like mint. Why?"

"Uh, that's the flavor in this particular mixture. Icy mint."

"Let me try some."

He looked at her. "Okay, when I say this feels like it's burning your mouth, that's not a joke. You'll have to swish it around in your mouth until I count to 30 if you want it to clean everything and give you minty breath. Are you sure you want to try?"

She glared at him. Again. "I said so, didn't I?"

"Alright." He measured it out into the cap and offered it to her. "By the way, when you're done don't swallow it. Spit it out. It'll make you sick if you swallow too much." Actually, it would make her drunk, and that'd require a lot more than the amount he'd given her, but . . .

"1. 2. 3. 4. . . ."

The expression on her face went from determined to shocked. _Cute_ shock, of course, but he was having that reaction to just about everything she did. Dammit.

"9 If you can't 10 stand it just 11 spit it out 12 . . ."

Maybe he was looking a bit smug, but she shook her head, set her jaw, and continued until he reached 30. Then she spat so hard it almost splashed back up to her.

"That . . . does feel cleaner."

"And now you have minty breath too. Kiss your boyfriend and he won't know what hit him."

She stared at him, then blushed and looked away. "I don't have a lover," she mumbled.

"Huh. Translation error, I think. Say 'boy'."

"Boy."

"Say 'friend'."

". . . Friend."

"Say both of them together."

"Boy friend."

"And when I say 'boyfriend', what do you hear?"

"Lover."

"Hmmm."

"Are you trying to say 'boy friend' as one word or something?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying in my language."

"Then . . . why would I let a boy kiss me, even if he's my friend? He'd get the wrong idea, and I'd have my honor ruined!"

"Like I said, translation error."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"So, you had my bags brought up. And I'm your 'familiar'. I think I need some more information, little lady, because I saw two moons out the window earlier, and that means I am most definitely a stranger in a strange land."

"Why do I have to explain _anything_? I summoned you here. I'm your master. You do what I tell you."

"I . . . see."

"You probably can't do anything useful like a _real_ familiar, but at least you can wash my clothes and dress me."

_Now _there's_ an enchanting thought . . . down!_

"That sounds like servant work, little lady. I'm pretty sure I'm wasted as a menial."

"My name is not 'little lady'! I am Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière! You will call me 'master'!"

"I think I like 'Louise' better."

"I don't care."

"I rather do."

"I don't care what you like! I am your master!"

"Hmmm."

"Do _you_ have a name, familiar?"

"Why, yes, I do."

"What _is_ it, then!"

"Call me 24601."

She stared at him. "That's not a name."

"No, it's not."

"That's a bunch of numbers."

"Indeed it is."

"Why do you want me to call you numbers?"

"Because, 'master', it is appropriate."

"What? Why?"

"You may learn, one day. Not tonight. So, laundry. After that, where do I sleep?"

"That's what the straw is for."

"I . . . see."


	5. Unfamiliar Surroundings III

**Unfamiliar Surroundings, Part III**

"I'm _really_ good at making soufflé."

"Of course I'd love to try it sometime." The guy who had a rose instead of a wand was getting ready to cop a feel on the girl he was flirting with. What, did nobody patrol the halls at night?

"Really?" She looked like she didn't mind at all, so this wasn't 24601's business in any way. He could move on, find the laundry-room, and not think about idiot teenagers and their lame attempts at courtship.

"Why of course, my dear Katie. When I gaze into your eyes, I cannot tell a lie."

_Gag me with a spoon._

She blushed, drew closer as he leaned in-

"Well, if it isn't the commoner that Louise summoned."

"Oh, at today's ceremony? The 1st Form students were talking about him too."

Interesting tidbit, but-

"He suddenly fainted, so I had to levitate him up to her room."

Also interesting - why hadn't Louise done that?

"Hold it, commoner!"

24601 turned back. "Yes?"

"Doesn't the commoner have anything to say to the noble who lent him a hand?"

_You _do_ self-identify as noble. In that case, _plenty_, but I'm not ready to start the revolution._

"I hadn't wished to interrupt your tryst, milord, but I thank you for your graciousness earlier today."

Mr. Rose seemed satisfied, and 24601 made a quick escape.

* * *

There was method to 24601's madness. Maybe.

He was a geek. Decently smart, and his well-developed curiosity extended beyond investigating magical portals, so all his life he'd been the type to learn a bit about a whole lot of things. He could describe how medieval dowries _really_ worked in one breath(it depended on which part of Europe you were in, and if you were a woman you wanted to stay the _hell_ away from England) and go on to discuss how faster-than-light travel might allow time travel in the next. You could say that he tried to understand everything, and that can't help but make one just a bit crazy.

He wasn't a master of social combat or anything like that, but he did have one skill. He could bounce around subjects pretty well, and that tended to confuse people. However, once Louise got on her high horse about being his master, he wasn't going to be able to control the conversation anymore. It had been time to retreat before she started laying down the law.

That said - thought? - the idea of being ordered around like a common servant bothered him for several reasons.

First, he'd just completed several years of college. The manual labor he'd done to avoid taking out loans was supposed to be ending, not beginning.

Second, he wasn't into that master/slave stuff that some lovers enjoyed. Yes, 'lovers'. Threat of the special hell or not, his heart was already doing its damndest to fall in love with Louise. He may have had no real luck in college - no time, honestly - but he knew what it was like to see a girl and have everything align perfectly. If he was going to spend a lot of time around Louise, those initial love-struck pangs weren't going to fade. And getting back to dominance issues, if Louise was going to be his one-and-only, then dammit she was going to have to see him as an equal.

Third. Okay, magic didn't bother him. Magic - _real_ magic - was _awesome_. Accepted as impossible up until today, but still awesome. It was also a decent explanation for the mirror-ellipse that had brought him to Louise. So, magic. _Cool_.

But _cool_ didn't cover it. He was in a no-shit-yes-this-is-for-_real, _Mark-goddamned-_Twain_-wrote-this, Conneticut-Yankee-in-King-Arthur's-Court-scenario- only-_better_-because-there's-_MAGIC_, most-of-his-buddies-back-home-would-_kill_-for-this, uber-geek-fantasy. The only way this could be better would be if David Tennant and Matt Smith were to show up in a blue box with a bevy of the coolest new companions to provide snarky MST3K commentary. Which . . . didn't seem to be happening. Dammit.

Even without that, though, he'd had to set down the laundry and lean against one of the castle walls for support as he gleefully cackled like a madman for a good 15 minutes.

Anyway.

As awesome as this once-in-a-million-lifetimes opportunity was, being stuck outside the aristocracy because he couldn't use magic sucked. The Bujold quote was that you'd adjust well to aristocratic culture if you got to be an _aristocrat_, not a serf! Louise said he was supposed to have 'familiar powers' - hello, some form of _magic_!, instant entrance to the nobility, right? . . . And then ignored the possibility in favor of using him as a menial.

And the big problem with that was: Fourth, nobles tend to see servants as non-people. If she was making herself think of him as just a body servant, she'd be resisting the familiar bond urge that ought to bring them closer together.

Thus, the Les Miserables reference. By withholding his name, he was presenting her with a mystery. He didn't intend to allow her to ignore it, either. When she sought to understand the mystery, she might be forced to confront some of her own attitudes.

In the meantime, by taking Louise's laundry and escaping he had a chance to connect with the people who were in charge of all the day-to-day stuff. He'd figured that if he was lucky there'd be some sort of central laundry room for that crowd he'd seen earlier. It's not like the girl would have been doing her own laundry.

Fortunately, it had turned out that they were still in that giant castle he'd seen on arriving. Even more fortunately, it had turned out that the castle was called the Tristain Academy of Magic, and not something like, say, _Hogwarts_. Best of all, after some additional exploration it turned out that he was right and the staff was already familiar with how to handle Louise's laundry. He was even able to get a description of everything she'd need to wear the next day.

Oh, and Louise had just placed into the second tier of classes by successfully summoning a familiar(apparently much to everyone's surprise), which they didn't let you try until you were at least 16(prime jailbait). Which was a hell of a lot better than 14 (ephebo . . . um), 12 (loli, and ew), or 10 (pedo! RUN AWAAAAAAAY!).

_Federal law aside, almost half the states set the age of consent at 16 under the right conditions. So does D.C., which tells you all you need to know about relations between Congresscritters and Congressional Pages. This shouldn't be an issue._

. . . .

_No. Maybe if we were her age, but no. Too squicky. I guess we can wait a couple of years. Besides, we'll probably have to convince the Powers That Be of my obvious merit._

It was a little late to blow up the air mattress he'd gotten to supplement the thin-ass mattresses that everyone used in Japan, but he could at least change into his cold-weather PJs and inflate his pillow. He also made sure to lay out Louise's clothing for tomorrow, since he'd probably sleep in until she woke him up.

* * *

Something was scratching his neck again. Some straw had somehow worked its way into his PJs. Wait. Straw. His eyes popped open as he remembered where he was.

Through the window the sky was just beginning to get lighter. It was pre-dawn, and there was just enough light to see by.

_Yay for good night-vision, but if they use sunlight during the day I probably need to keep my sunglasses with me._

Louise hadn't given him a time to wake her up, so it was probably safe to assume that she'd do that on her own eventually. Speaking of which . . .

She was snoring gently, hair spread out on the bed. Her face . . . this was his first real chance to study it.

_Should we take a picture?_

_No. It may have solar panels for recharging, but who knows how long my phone'll last before it glitches beyond recovery._

A picture would be nice, though. She had delicate, elfin features. Well-defined, as opposed to his own rather plain Euro-mutt blend. Asleep, she was lovely, utterly _adorable_.

_And if you want her thinking even remotely the same about us, we probably need to lose the belly._

It took less than five minutes to confirm that, yes, it was going to take a while to get used to exercise again. High-school PE was just too long ago.

_Hell with it. Time to wake her up and find out what the day's gonna bring._

_Okay, she's not a super-light sleeper, otherwise my thumping around would've woken her. But maybe she's not planning to get up yet, so this calls for gentleness._

Half of Enya's songs were soothing, trippy mood music. And, hell, he sang along often enough that he had most of her stuff memorized by now.

"Suddenly before my eyes . . ."

Louise was blinking sleepily by the end of the second verse, but she didn't complain as he went through to the end.

"Why are you sitting on my bed?"

"Because I was going to start tapping your forehead if the song didn't work. Um . . . we forgot to clarify what time to get up in the morning."

She looked out the window. "The sun isn't even up."

"Well . . . it'll come up pretty soon."

Glare. "This was too early." She pushed her blanket down. "Get my clothes."

Snap! The lamp came on again.

"Dressing you will not be a problem. Mostly." He handed her the panties he'd set out. "You'll have to handle _these_ yourself, however, unless you're not worried about the inevitable gossip."

She took the panties, stared at them, looked at him, blushed a little, and quickly looked back down at the panties. "You're my _familiar_. It's not like having a _boy_ in my room."

_Oh yes it is._ "You think that pack of laughing asses from yesterday will draw that distinction?"

". . . Maybe I should send you to live in the servant dorms."

He tilted his head. "I'm honestly surprised you didn't already."

She scowled as she pulled the panties up under her nightgown. Which meant he hadn't mis-remembered, she really did sleep comman- down! "I can't. Even the ones who saw you appear . . ."

He raised an eyebrow. "What, people don't think I'm a 'real' familiar?"

She flushed. "Just shut up and finish dressing me!"

She wouldn't let 24601 speak for over an hour. She spent the time reading from a book. Unfortunately, the translation effect didn't cover writing, so all he could do was look over her shoulder at the illuminations. Mostly diagrams, but there were some fairly lurid pictures of magical effects. This was probably a grimoire of some sort . . .

"Stop looming like that!"

He backed up. "Sorry. Even if I can't do magic, it's interesting to try to figure out how it works."

She sighed. "Teaching those clockwork minds - is that a scholarly profession?"

"There's something of that mindset, yeah. So, which of those spells are you working on right now?"

She slammed the book shut. "It's time for breakfast. Follow me."

* * *

Another door in the hallway opened as they left Louise's room. The busty red-head - probably 5'8" or so - strutted out, assets on display. Her skin was tanned, her clothing was form-fitting, her blouse was . . . incompletely buttoned, and Curvy McJiggles stopped right in front of Louise.

She favored them both with a broad grin. "Good morning, Louise."

"Good morning, Kirche." Louise was not smiling. 24601 kept his eyes on his little mistress. Safer than ogling, and if he was to take his cue from Louise he'd better pay attention.

"Is _that_ really your familiar?" Kirche asked, pointing at 24601.

". . . Yes."

Kirche started laughing. "That's incredible! It really is just a commoner!"

_So I'm an _it_? Okay, lady, you're on my personal shit-list unless Louise _really_ likes you._ He gave her his best thousand-yard stare. It probably needed work, he'd never been in the military, but at least he wasn't staring at her tits.

She ignored the stare. Yep. Needed work. "But, then again, what did anyone expect from Louise the Zero?"

Louise's white cheeks flushed scarlet.

"Shut up."

"I summoned a familiar yesterday, too." Kirche was using a sing-song voice now, like an 8-year-old on a playground mocking her rival. "Unlike a certain somebody, I was successful on my first try."

"I remember," Louise ground out.

"And I didn't have to settle for anything less than the best. Flame!"

Kirche called her familiar triumphantly. The charizard-pokemon-thing calmly joined her. A wave of heat from its tail hit Louise and 24601.

"Have you ever seen such a beautiful salamander? Don't worry. It won't attack anyone unless I tell it to."

He couldn't help it. His lips twitched.

"What?"

Aw, hell with it. "Is it going to stay that small? That one dragon yesterday was a lot bigger."

"It's plenty big! It's a Fire Mountain salamander - don't you see how vibrantly the tail burns! You can't just buy one, you know."

"That's nice," Louise said, her voice bitter.

"Isn't it? It matches my affinity perfectly! Truly, I'm Kirche the Ardent, the mage of smoldering passion and blazing beauty!"

Kirche puffed her chest out proudly, turning to aim at 24601.

_Yeah, right. I learned how to keep my eyes to myself on a Miami beach during Spring Break. You? Are an amateur._ He looked down at Louise, who . . . was she trying to thrust out _her_ chest as well?

Whatever. She relaxed a moment later. "_I_ don't have the time to go around flirting with everything I see, unlike you."

As Louise stepped around Kirche, and 24601 followed, Kirche put a hand on his shoulder to halt him.

She flashed a brilliant smile. "And what's _your_ name?"

"I am Louise's familiar."

She started to open her mouth, but he broke free and caught up with Louise. Who was smiling. Just a bit.

"I take it that she's not a friend."

"No." Louise gave him a sidelong look as they descended the stairs. "You don't think she's pretty?"

"I do, actually. I just don't care." At her look he elaborated. "My study with clockwork minds? That's supposed to take six years. I managed in four-and-a-half, and I supported myself with a job at the same time. You can't do that if you don't learn how to ignore, um, certain kinds of games, or women who dress-"

"Like whores?"

"I was going to say 'provocatively'."

Louise gritted her teeth. "She does that all the time, and no one stops her! And now she summoned a salamander from the Fire Dragon Mountains! Argh!"

"I guess that's a big deal?"

"Yes! You can determine a mage's true power just by looking at her familiar! Why did that idiot get a salamander, while I got _you_?"

_Wait, does that mean they evolve as a mage grows more powerful? Am I going to grow horns or sprout wings at some point?_

"Hey, being human's not all bad. We're above all the animals, right?"

"WE? Comparing mages and commoners is like comparing wolves and dogs!" Louise exclaimed haughtily.

". . . Yeah. Anyway. She's 'the Ardent', which seems to mean 'local slut'." Louise smirked just a bit at his blatant partisanship. "What does 'the Zero' mean?"

She glared at him, then stomped off.

_Right. Could be breast-size. _Bad_ question. Idiot._

* * *

The dining hall was at the center of the Academy. There were a number of familiars right outside. Most were just waiting around, although a few were tussling with each other.

He'd caught up with Louise by the time she'd reached the courtyard. "So, little mistress, I take it there's a 'no pets' rule for the dining hall?"

She nodded. "Don't worry. I got permission to let you sit on the floor inside."

24601 pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "You couldn't hold out for an actual seat?"

"Why would I do that? Be grateful you're allowed in at all!"

". . . Right. So, what, are you going to pass me table-scraps or something?"

She rolled her eyes. "I had them set out a bowl with some leftover gruel."

He winced. "I'm guessing you were a bit annoyed yesterday when you made these arrangements."

"Are you questioning your master's generosity?"

He shrugged. "Eh, what with the shock of arrival I'm not all that hungry just yet. Tell you what: I'll go arrange a few of my things while you eat. Where should I meet you after breakfast?"

Because, despite being quite hungry, there was no way in _hell_ that he would let her treat him like a dog during mealtimes.


	6. By Any Other Name I

**By Any Other Name, Part I**

Breakfast gave him long enough to retrieve Louise's clean laundry, get rid of the straw, and inflate his mattress. After that he grabbed a blank notebook and a pen and hustled over to the classroom that Louise had told him about before she went in to eat. He arrived at the entrance just as Louise entered the hallway. She set her lips and walked past him into the lecture hall.

The students already present fell silent as he followed her in, then burst out laughing. Kirche, present and surrounded by half-a-dozen boys, laughed harder than anyone. Just like when he'd been summoned. Still, everyone had their new familiar with them, so at least 24601 had a right to be there.

Louise glared at him as he took the seat next to her. "That's a mage's seat. Familiars aren't permitted to use it."

"If a mage wants it, I'll give it up. Until then, it's a seat for any human who has the right to be in this room."

She set her lips again, but didn't argue.

The door opened, and a woman entered. She was middle-aged, dressed in a voluminous purple robe and a hat. She had a plump, round face with a friendly expression on it.

"The teacher?" 24601 whispered.

"Isn't it obvious?" Louise hissed back. "She's Chevreuse the Red Clay."

The woman gazed around the classroom and spoke with a satisfied smile.

"Well, everyone, it seems that the Springtime Familiar Summoning was a great success. I always enjoy seeing the new familiars that are summoned each spring."

Louise cast her eyes downward.

"My, my. You've summoned quite a . . . peculiar familiar, Miss Vallière," she remarked as she looked at 24601. The comment seemed innocent enough, but the classroom exploded with laughter. Again.

"Louise the Zero! Don't go around grabbing random commoners off the street just because you can't summon anything!" This from a kid as pudgy as 24601. A lot shorter, though.

Louise's long hair billowed as she stood up. "No! I did everything properly! He was all that appeared!"

"Don't lie! I bet you couldn't even cast 'Summon Servant' properly, right?"

More laughter from the students.

Louise banged her fist against the tabletop in protest. "Madam Chevreuse! I've been insulted! Malicorne the 'Common Cold' just insulted me!"

"Common cold? I'm Malicorne the Windward! I haven't caught any cold!"

"Well, your hoarse voice sounds exactly like you've caught one!"

The boy called Malicorne stood up and glared at Louise. Chevreuse pointed at them with the wand in her hand. The two suddenly jerked about like puppets on a string and rigidly sat back down.

"Miss Vallière, Young Master Malicorne. Stop trying to start a fight. Calling friends 'Zero' or 'Common Cold' is not acceptable. Do you understand?"

"Madam Chevreuse, I'm only called that as a joke, but for Louise, it's the truth."

This set the students off a fourth time.

Chevreuse looked around the classroom with a severe expression. She pointed her wand again, and suddenly the mouths of the students who were laughing - almost everyone in the room - were filled with lumps of red clay. She waited calmly while they spat it out.

"I trust there will be no more outbursts.

"You have all heard what the familiar bond feels like. Now you are finding out just how the description falls short of the reality.

"You all know what happens today. Let me remind you that with your affinity revealed and confirmed, your magic has become more powerful. Do not cast any spells today without an instructor present."

With that, everyone stood up and began to leave.

"Short class," 24601 commented.

"We're spending today out on the field, so that we can bond with our familiars."

"I see."

* * *

The field had a number of tables and chairs set out. Louise glared (again!) as he led her to an empty table seated for two.

24601 rolled his eyes. "Look, if I was a dog you'd bond with me by petting me and scratching behind my ears. Since I'm a man, instead, we'll bond by getting to know each other better."

"Don't act like you're a noble! You don't have any right to treat me like this!"

He sighed. "Okay, at this point we have two options." He pointed at Mr. Rose, who was sitting on the ground and cooing over his brown hairball pokemon. "We can get down on the ground and you can start acting like Rose-boy over there-"

"I will not!" she hissed with a heavy blush.

"Or we can sit and talk like civilized people. Or, here's a third option - we stroll around the field and talk. Either way, today's assignment is familiar bonding. How do you want to go about it?"

She turned and started walking.

After a minute 24601 decided he'd have to break the ice.

"So, I thought it was nice of Madam Chevreuse to shut everyone up. How long has she been your instructor?"

Louise sighed. "She only teaches 2nd Form. Today was our first class with her."

"Ah. That explains why the Common Cold," she perked up, "tried to tell her about your title." She flushed and slumped back down. "So I take it that summoning a human is unheard of? Everyone seems to think you hired me in advance or something."

"Yes, it's unheard of! You _can't_ summon humans. We don't even _have_ an element!"

"Element? Are we talking about atoms, emotions, or stuff like fire and water?"

She gave him a look that spoke volumes of his idiocy. "Fire, Air, Water, and Earth."

"Corresponding to passion and will, freedom and aloofness, adaptability and partisanship, and stubbornness and steadfastness?"

This got him another funny look. "Sometimes. You've already studied magic?"

"Sort of?" He shrugged. "My people don't have magic, but we have legends from long ago. Some of them used your four elements."

As they passed by one of the exits, Madam Chevreuse approached with three other adults.

"Miss Vallière?"

Louise stiffened slightly. "Yes, Madam Chevreuse?"

"Mr. Colbert confirmed that your summoning was valid, but wasn't able to discover the element that commoners represent. We decided to have you test them all this morning."

Louise had perked up slightly.

_Okay, you don't have to hit me in the face _too_ many times with the cluebat before we get it. Louise doesn't have much confidence in her magic._

24601 followed his mistress to a small building nearby.

"Most commoners spend their humble lives tending base soil," Madam Chevreuse said in a self-deprecating tone as she set a pebble on the table they'd gathered around. "A commoner familiar may indicate an Earth affinity. I'd like you to try a simple transmutation: Change this pebble to any of the lesser metals."

Louise looked at the table, face pinched as if in fear.

24601 leaned over to whisper in her ear. "The last time you cast a spell, it didn't do what you expected but it was still useful. Go ahead and try."

"I don't need your permission," she grumbled, but at least she looked a little more confident.

_On the other hand, there _was_ that side effect._ 24601 shifted behind Louise and braced himself.

Madam Chevreuse leaned in to watch as Louise began casting. She smiled as Louise spoke the final word and made the final pass of the spell.

The pebble promptly exploded. Louise flew back into 24601 hard enough to make him stumble and fall on his ass.

When the smoke cleared, Madam Chevreuse was lying on the floor against the wall with a nasty bump on her head. 24601's head was ringing and his tailbone felt bruised, but Louise was already scrambling to her feet.

One of the other teachers knelt down next to Madam Chevreuse and began casting a spell. Yet another teacher looked at the final one and said, "That's Fire if that's anything, Mr. Colbert. I'll test her in Air but I think she's all yours."

The Air spell also blew up, but everyone was careful to stand well away this time. Then the Water spell blew up. As for the Fire spell?

Well, the lamp _was_ burning afterwards. All over the ground, flaming oil spread everywhere but the table itself. Since water is the last thing you want to stop an oil fire, 24601 had a moment of panic, but Mr. Colbert quickly cast a spell that put the fires out.

He sighed as the other teachers left him with Louise and 24601. "Miss Vallière, I'm going to lend you a couple of books from my private library. They offer some different approaches for Fire magic. Maybe one of them will give you more control."

He turned his attention to 24601. "As for your familiar - young man, do you have a name?"

24601 nodded as Louise rolled her eyes. "I do, but I'm not sure Louise has earned it yet. I've told her she can call me '24601'."

"An odd appellation."

"It seemed appropriate."

Mr. Colbert shook his head. "The smarter a familiar, the harder it can be to completely earn its trust. I suppose a human familiar would be one of the hardest ones. In any event, how did you know to stand behind Louise and break her fall?"

Louise's expression quickly exchanged aloof boredom for eager interest. "You think he can sense danger? Is that one of his powers?"

24601 shrugged. "Maybe not. Remember the spell you cast last night? I was expecting another explosion."

"What spell did you cast last night, Louise? You know you're not supposed to try new magic on the day of summoning."

Louise glared defiance. "I just wanted him to shut up!"

24601 snickered. "I don't actually speak your language," he told Mr. Colbert by way of explanation. "So I didn't understand anything Louise said, and vice-versa. Eventually she got tired of that and cast her spell, which blew me across the room. When I woke back up a bit later, we could understand each other."

"You mean she taught you our language with one miscast spell?"

"Ah, no. I'm still speaking my native language, and what I'm hearing sounds like my native language. It's just a translation."

"That would explain why your phrasing is so odd."

The locals didn't sound that strange to 24601, but then again English has half-a-dozen different ways to say anything, so the spell probably had an easier time translating to English than it did translating back.

"One more thing. Show me your left hand."

"You want to see the runes?"

Mr. Colbert nodded, pulled out some parchment, and compared it to the runes burned into the back of 24601's hand. After a moment he shook his head. "I didn't remember them correctly - none of these match." He put the bottom of the parchment against 24601's hand and chanted a quick spell. A quick flash of fire and a copy of the runes was burned into the parchment. "I'm hoping these will help me find out what a human familiar means. In the meantime, I believe they are serving refreshments by now. You two should probably head back out to the yard."

* * *

Louise had insisted that 24601 fetch her cake and lemonade. He declined to argue, since this way he could make sure that he got a serving as well.

He was coming back out to the yard when he saw a young maid with an unhappy expression being followed by a girl dressed as a 1st Form.

"Pardon me, but is something wrong?"

The 1st Form girl started to dismiss him. "No, nothing, you may-" and broke off. "Aren't you the human familiar I saw last night?"

"Yes- ah, I remember you, young miss." It was Mr. Rose's girlfriend. "Are you looking for your friend?" He started scanning the yard. Sometimes towering above just about everyone else came in handy.

"Yes, and that's his special cake that this maid is carrying, so-"

"I see him." Or, rather, he saw the brown hairball that was Mr. Rose's familiar. It looked like Mr. Rose was now at one of those tables for two, and he wasn't alone.

_Oh my. Should we? Probably not, but - hell with it. If it's what it could be, better for little Miss Soufflé to find out now._

"Where is he?" Antsy, this one was.

24601 looked down at her. "I get the feeling that you're skipping a class to be with your friend, so I shouldn't encourage you. Still, it's a lovely day, and I suppose one class won't matter too much." He flagged down another servant who was passing by. "This young lady is meeting her friend this morning. Get a chair and follow her, okay?"

He carefully took one hand off his tray and pointed. "Your friend is right over there, on the other end of the yard." Miss Soufflé took off happily, servant following.

The maid was staring at 24601 with horror in her eyes. He shrugged. "Yeah, I know, but it's better for her in the long run if she finds out now." He transferred his cake and drink to her tray. "There, now you have enough for him and his two . . . friends. I'm sure you know your business, but I'd serve them quickly and then run if I were you."

* * *

Louise looked puzzled as he served her and then took the seat opposite her. Rose-boy was behind him. Pity. He wouldn't be able to watch. "You didn't get anything for yourself? I thought I forgot to forbid that."

"Something came up," he smirked.

"What?"

"You know the guy with the rose for a wand? The one with the hairball for a familiar?"

"He's Guiche the - why is that 1st Form girl sitting down with him and Montmorency? . . . _What did you do_!"

"See the maid?"

"Yes."

"When I saw she only had enough for two I gave her my cake and lemonade, so she had enough for all three."

Louise glared. "That 1st Form is supposed to be in class. Why did you help her?"

"Well-deserved schadenfreude."

"_What?_"

A pair of slaps echoed across the yard.

24601 smiled. "Sounds like my guess was right, he _was_ romancing them both. Did the maid get clear?"

Louise nodded, hand over her mouth, eyes wide. "Montmorency just threw her lemonade into Guiche's eyes." A swell of laughter carried across the yard. "Now they just shoved his face down into his cake, and now they're marching off together." She looked back to 24601, who was trying to muffle his snickering. "What did he do to you?"

"Eh, he annoyed me last night, and he was one of the ones laughing at you this morning."

Louise buried her face in her hands. "You can't go around humiliating everyone who laughs at me, 24601."

"I know." _I'd never get anything else done._ "He was just an easy target this morning."

"He looks really mad."

"If the maid made it out safely then there's no one for him to take it out on. Probably a good thing that I'm not watching this directly, or else I'd be laughing uncontrollably."

"Well, he's storming off."

24601 shrugged. "Mischief managed. So. I think we need to go over your problems with magic."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Then eat your cake and _I'll_ talk.

"First. From what I've gathered it seems like every spell is linked to a particular element. Is that right?" She nodded yes. "So my first question is, if some people don't have their affinity revealed until they summon their familiar, what do 1st Form students learn?"

She swallowed her mouthful of cake. "A lot of spells are so simple that it doesn't matter what element you have. Any mage can use them." She took another bite.

"Any mage, except yourself?" She scowled. "Yeah. After what I've seen I was wondering if that's what the 'Zero' thing was all about. Are the explosions new?"

She nodded and swallowed. "Sometimes I got a pop and some smoke, but nothing ever blew up before."

"Hmmm . . . so the Silence spell you tried to cast on me - is that an Air spell?"

She nodded as she drank some lemonade.

"Interesting. It seems to me that the actual effect that you got was more mind-based than anything. Are translating spells also Air?"

She shook her head. "I don't know of any translating spells. How could a spell know how to translate an entire language? Even the ones that are similar are too different."

"How many do you speak?"

"Well . . . Tristainian and Albionian are almost the same, so I don't think Albionian counts. I also speak Germanian and Gallian, but Romalian is the language that they all started out as, so . . . 4 or 5, I guess."

"Not bad." Not that 24601 was particularly fluent in anything but English himself, although he had a smattering of Japanese and a tiny bit of Spanish. "Okay, so the accidental translation was weird. I'll go along with the idea that you awakened a familiar power - speaking of which, can you tell me the ones that _every_ familiar has?"

She nodded. "I'm supposed to be able to see through your eyes, hear through your ears, and direct what you do. If I want something, you should be able to tell what it is and go do it for me, even if you can't see me or hear me."

"Does it take effort to see through a familiar's eyes?"

"Yes, some. It's really hard to see through your own eyes at the same time, so you have to focus on it."

"We should try that tonight . . . but it may not be easy for us, or even possible."

She frowned. "Why not?"

He shrugged. "All the familiars I've seen here seem to be sentient creatures - they aren't just limited to instinct. They can learn. However, as a human I'm also sapient - self-aware, able to reason and doubt. It sounds like the familiars borrow some of the quality of sapience from their masters. Since I already have a self-aware mind, that could present problems.

"On the other hand, maybe it'll be really easy. Dunno. We'll have to find out.

"Back to spells. How many times did you try to summon a familiar?"

Pause.

". . . Four," she finally muttered.

"The first couple of times, were you focusing on the elements?"

"Yes."

"What did you do differently the last time?"

"Well . . ." Louise looked _very_ thoughtful. "On the third time, I was getting . . . desperate, so I was distracted from thinking about the elements, but I felt something moving in my magic. Mr. Colbert wanted me to stop, so I did it again really fast before he could interrupt and didn't think about anything but the magic that I could feel. Then you showed up."

"Hmmm . . . and when you cast the Silence spell on me?"

"I was _really_ annoyed because you wouldn't shut up, and I knew I was supposed to be stronger now, so I didn't _think_ about it. I just did it."

"And those four spells you tried for the teachers just now?"

"Of _course_ I was focusing on the proper element."

"And all you got was an explosion. Very interesting. You see the pattern?"

She nodded slowly. "If I focus just on what I _need_, I get _something_, but if I focus on the elements-"

"Boom. I think our afternoon bonding is going to involve a small classroom with explosion-proof walls and some privacy."

"You really think that's it?"

He shrugged. "Honestly? Remember those old legends my people have? They tried to fit everything into the elements, and it wasn't until a lot later that they figured out that not everything fit the way they thought it should. You have a familiar who doesn't fit your elemental system, so I wouldn't be surprised to find out that your _magic_ doesn't fit it, either. It's worth a-"

"Um, Miss Vallière? Mister Familiar?" The maid who'd served Guiche was back, staggering under a heavily-loaded tray. "Lunch is being served."

"Oh, geez, did they send you out by yourself? Here, let me hold that for you." 24601 jumped out of his chair and took the tray, ignoring Louise's slightly suspicious look. The maid set two places, and swiftly unloaded a delicious-looking lunch for both mistress and familiar. It was all finger-food - in fact he had yet to see so much as a fork or spoon anywhere. There were, however, plenty of cloths.

"What are you doing?" Louise sputtered. "I gave specific instructions for what my familiar is to eat-"

The maid curtseyed. "Yes, Miss Vallière. Chef Marteau sends his compliments for the best laugh he's had all month." She took her tray back from 24601 and hurried off.

"Don't even _think_ about touching any of that. I gave them _very_ specific instructions about what you could eat."

24601 lifted an eyebrow. "Louise. I skipped dinner last night _and_ breakfast this morning. I am _famished_, so with all due respect, your instructions can go to hell." Steady eyes locked to glaring eyes, he took a large drink from his new glass of lemonade. "That said, I know I'm as fat as Malicorne, and I need to fix that. I'll talk to this Chef Marteau this afternoon about what I need for a healthy diet. Okay?"

"Hmph. What do _you_ think you need to eat?"

"I'm thinking whole-grain porridge with nuts and boiled water."

"That's all?"

"Plus some fruits and vegetables on the side."

She nodded. "I suppose that's mostly commoner food."

"Common or noble, I don't care too much. What it _is_, as I know by the arts and wisdom of my people, is _healthy_."

"You should go tell this Chef Marteau to make you some of that right now."

"Hell no. You won't be able to stop me with magic until we test things out this afternoon, remember?" He shrugged at her nigh-apoplectic face. "Besides, didn't you hear that maid? I _earned_ this feast."

She snorted, almost in spite of herself. "That _was_ pretty funny."

* * *

They ran into a stumbling block almost immediately that afternoon. Louise had a well-deserved reputation as a diligent student when it came to magic, so she knew all about how spells _ought_ to be cast. Trying to cast them the 'wrong' way - trying to focus on the 'wrong' thing - was _hard_. And with her power, that meant a lot of pebbles blowing up for every pebble that was successfully levitated. Fortunately, strange noises from spellcasting were so common in the castle that nobody came running to investigate.

That said, she was so elated the first time the pebble (or at least the part of it that was left after the explosion) floated into the air that she didn't even complain when 24601 gave her hair a congratulatory ruffle.

They finally stopped practicing when the dinner-bell rang out. Louise looked annoyed when she realized-

"You never went to talk to Chef Marteau! Now he'll try to-"

"Eh, don't worry about it. I'm still pretty full from lunch, I'll just skip dinner."

* * *

They retired to their bedroom early. Louise thought the air-mattress was clever, and wanted to know everything else 24601 had in his backpack and duffle-bags. He had to remind her of their actual goal that evening a few times before she agreed to put off the inventory.

She had a book that described exactly how to see through her familiar's eyes, and after reading that section - aloud, for 24601's sake - they agreed that it sounded more like projecting her mind into his than anything else. Unfortunately, actually doing that with his mind in the way wasn't so easy. In fact, that night all they managed to progress to was a peculiar feeling of pressure on 24601's mind when Louise made her attempts.

"You know," he finally said, weary. "Maybe it's just not possible as long as my mind is around. Maybe you can only do this if I'm asleep or in a trance or something."

She scowled, equally weary. "That would make it useless."

"Well . . . there's one other possibility. If we can't both fit behind my eyes, maybe I'd have to project myself into _your_ head to make room."

"You - you think I'd have to let you control _me_?"

"Two sapient minds. One in here," he tapped his head, then hers, "and one in there. Maybe the only way I can make room for you is if you make room for me. But I don't know. Maybe we can ask a teacher tomorrow?"

She had a really disturbed look on her face as he helped her change into her nightgown.

"Hey," he said as he tucked her into bed. "Don't worry about it too much. You made a lot of progress today. We'll get it all figured out."

It took another five minutes to hit the limit on his exercises. He was going to be sore all over tomorrow. He changed into his PJs quickly, grateful that with the lamp out it was probably too dark for Louise to actually see him undress.

* * *

A/N: Three things to address in this chapter.

#1: If canon Louise was always able to do the explosion effect, and everyone treated her with such contempt . . . _why is the castle still standing_?

#2: 5,000 years is a fracking long time. We're talking so far back that the equivalent is something like the story of Noah and the Ark. One of the problems with the Bible? More than once, people have had to vote about which version of a particular book was the "correct" one. Yes, politics got involved, so they probably got it wrong.

Everyone's reaction to "human familiar" is "that's impossible, no such thing", rather than "Blasphemy!" Gandalfr-as-familiar is a data point that's been lost to history, or at best is in the keeping of a hidden mystery cult. Mr. Colbert's going to need more than a day or two to locate the old, damaged, nearly illegible fragment of text that identifies the runes with Gandalfr.

#3: Which means 24601 is going to go on thinking that his job is to be Louise's Magical Animal Companion for a while. Adviser/Support, instead of Meatshield.


	7. By Any Other Name II

**By Any Other Name, Part II**

The days quickly developed a routine. 24601 did not eat with Louise: He quickly admitted to her that one reason he was fat was that he had a strong sweet-tooth, and they agreed that tempting him with the dining hall desserts was a bad idea. He took his meals in a room by himself. The maid that he'd met - her name was Siesta, which was either suspicious or a silly coincidence - would come let him know when the students were almost finished so that he could meet Louise as she left the dining hall.

After a week or so(and after he let slip that his watch could set an alarm) Siesta started showing up with food for both of them and spent his meal-times with him. According to her, Chef Marteau wanted 24601 up-to-date on Academy gossip so that he wouldn't miss any opportunities to tell Siesta, and by extension the rest of the staff, how to help deserving students humiliate themselves. Siesta herself had quite the imagination about what nobles might be tricked into doing, and one day, after some particularly salacious speculation, 24601 had to wonder if this world had already invented the trashy romance novel.

(The biggest mystery regarding Siesta was her eyes. She was the only person he'd seen in this world with epicanthic folds, although hers were the mild kind you tend to get when you mix Asian with non-Asian. It made 24601 wonder just how often portals opened up between this world and Japan.)

His mornings after breakfast were spent in class with Louise and Madam Chevreuse. Madam Chevreuse taught advanced magic theory, which often turned into basic magic theory, since many of the students hadn't paid much attention during their 1st Form years. Why bother until they knew what their affinity was? - or at least that's what many of them seemed to think. 24601 just took advantage of the opportunity to take notes on the basics as well as the advanced theory.

The overall system was simple enough. Mages were rated from Dot to Square, based on how many elements they could combine into a single spell. In addition, the higher a mage's rank, the more mana the mage had to cast spells with, and lower ranking spells required less mana to cast. Each increase in rank effectively quadrupled a mage's power.

Due to the affinities, most mages focused on developing their skill with a single element – whatever they had an affinity for – so that they could learn to cast powerful spells that required a multiple of a single element. It was also possible to learn other elements as a secondary skill – 'secondary' ranks didn't add to your overall power, but they allowed a mage to learn other spells. So a Square of Earth might study enough Air to be able to use Dot-rank Air spells.

(Madame Chevreuse was unusual in that, while a Triangle, she had learned Fire as her third rank. This limited her Triangle-class spells to Earth-Earth-Fire, at least until she managed to increase her Earth rank to Triangle on its own.)

In the afternoons Louise had Mr. Colbert, along with the other 2nd Forms who were learning Fire. This included Kirche, unfortunately, who had advanced to Triangle in Fire after summoning her salamander. Mr. Colbert was pleased that Louise was finally figuring out basic spellwork, but her attempts at proper Fire magic all resulted in explosions. Even Fireball didn't work correctly for her. Mr. Colbert had her trying to control the strength of her explosions, as well as trying the different approaches to Fire magic that were in his books. 24601's main job there was to calm Louise down when she started getting too frustrated.

"I'm a little surprised that you haven't mentioned my theory to him," 24601 noted one day after lunch. "He's researching my runes, after all, so he might come across some spells that don't fit the elemental model."

Louise shook her head. "I don't want to waste his time on that. No mage has _ever_ been outside the elemental system."

"There's always a first time, but . . . look, could you at least ask him to find every single 'any mage can do it' spell?"

"I _could_. Why should I?"

"Well, it's magic you know you can learn, and that's something. Beyond that . . . I have an idea I'd like to test, but it'd work best if you know as many basic spells as possible."

After all, was he or was he not a trained programmer? If Louise could learn enough basic spells and they could work out a way to string them together to produce more complicated effects . . . well, it was worth looking into.

Louise's attitude had started to shift. She was still hung up on her noble status, but when she was worked up - for example, if Kirche had just managed something particularly impressive and Louise botched her attempt at the same - he could grab her and give her time to calm down(okay, usually she tried to bite and claw at first, but it still worked _eventually_). They kept drilling on trying to share his vision in the evenings, but she refused to try to let him behind her eyes. Since he suspected it was boy/girl nervousness, he didn't push on that.

He did insist on developing the same ability to "push" against her mind that she'd been able to do to him on their first night of training. That way they could at least send an alert to each other if something was wrong. He intended, after they were both able to do it easily, to use their evenings to drill on some code sequences.

Best of all(from his point of view), his belly was finally starting to shrink.

* * *

He had essentially ignored Kirche. Yeah, she was hot. Easily the second-prettiest student after Louise, and he may have been a bit biased in Louise's favor. Anyway, Kirche _also_ kept a crowd of admirers around her, which meant she was practically inaccessible. Besides, she clearly made Louise feel insecure, and if 24601 were to abandon his mistress to go panting after the woman who was everything Louise thought she herself should be . . .

Well. Only an utterly insensitive clod would do that to his girlfriend, and in a lot of ways 24601 and Louise were as close as lovers. As long as he had his way, she would know that _he_, at least, was at her side.

Nonetheless, what is a mere commoner to do when mages fight?

It was late one night, after 24601 had dropped off Louise's laundry and was heading back up to bed. Flame, Kirche's salamander, was waiting in the hall. When he shifted to step around it, it shifted to block him.

"Good evening, Kirche." Okay, it was a guess - it's not like anyone would hear if he'd guessed wrong. From Flame's reaction, he'd guessed right, anyway. "It's late and I'm tired, so unless there's an emergency, I'm going to bed."

But Flame refused to let him by. When he tried to just shove his way past, the salamander's tail whipped around and threatened to burn him.

"Dammit, woman, what the hell are you playing at?" he finally snapped at the salamander. In response it grabbed his arm in its mouth and started pulling. The door to Kirche's room opened and the salamander practically threw him inside. Then it nudged the door closed, leaving him in the dark.

Well, the room only had a bit of moonlight illuminating it, but 24601 _did_ have good night-vision. He could see where Kirche lay on her bed, although there wasn't enough light to see details.

_I have a _bad_ feeling about this._ He started pinging Louise's mind. If he was lucky she'd still be awake and wouldn't take long to get out of bed and investigate.

"Welcome to my bedroom." Kirche's voice was low, and throaty, and promised unimaginable pleasure. In other words, she'd spent time perfecting her seductive tones.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"What do you mean?" Confident and amused. He had to give her credit, she hadn't allowed his interjection to break her poise. She snapped her fingers, and lamps on the wall lit up one by one.

Her nightgown looked like something right out of a seraglio: Gaps and seams intended to lead the eye towards the curving bounty of breast and hip on display. She lounged gracefully - artfully - on the bed, leaning forward just enough to emphasize her cleavage.

"Very nicely arranged - you obviously have a great deal of practice. As I said earlier, however, I'm tired and I want to go to bed." He paused. "That is to say, I want to go to _my_ bed, which is not in this room."

He turned to leave. The door, however, would not open. He turned back. "Seriously?"

She shrugged, the gesture doing absolutely entrancing things to her torso. "As a familiar, it's only to be expected that your bond would force you to try to escape. Don't worry, I'll be delighted to help you get over that."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed at Louise's mind even harder. "How about no? Your presentation is spectacular, but I _know_ about you, Kirche."

"Oh? What lies has La Vallière filled you with?"

"Not lies and not her. You've been here for less than half a year, and you were already a skilled Line mage when you arrived from Germania. You have over a dozen boys rotating through your bed, although most of them try to conceal their trysts with you from the girls they're courting. You have a Gallian friend named Tabitha, the girl with the dragon, who came here a little after you did. You two became friends when someone tried to trick you into hating each other. You're a fairly powerful Triangle who will undoubtedly reach Square eventually.

"From this lofty position of both social and magical prowess, you feel the need to constantly belittle my mistress, who struggles with the even simplest Fire spells but refuses to give up. The fact that you are already a social leader among your peers means that you've made it acceptable to sneer at Louise no matter what she attempts or how hard she tries."

Kirche pouted. "You must think I'm a horrible person, then."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I think you have a grudge against Louise. You can't get over something she has or is - or did, but my source says you started in on her as soon as you met her, so I don't think she had _time_ to do anything to you. I won't say I like it, but it's rather human of you.

"Then there's me. Malicorne doesn't have women flocking to him, so the corpulent look isn't in favor around here. I haven't done anything particularly heroic or noteworthy, either. All I've done is be there for Louise, so I have to think that your only motivation is to take me from her side.

"_That_ I find horrible."

Kirche sighed and sat up. "You don't understand at all, then. I am Kirche the Ardent. My passion can strike for anyone, and I must obey it." She lifted her wand and chanted a quick spell. 24601 found himself unable to move. "I'm glad I made sure I would have all night with you." She walked over to him, wrapped him in her arms, and stood on tip-toes to whisper into his ear. "Don't worry - we'll still have _plenty_ of time after I've helped you get over the Zero."

His treacherous body was already tingling in anticipation. She quietly chanted a spell, then pulled his head down to kiss her. She nudged his teeth open with her tongue, pinched his nose closed, and exhaled, sending warm air into his lungs and a shock all over his body.

The part of his mind that was normally in charge - that observed changes and made sure he was aware of himself - could only watch as the rest of himself was overcome with lust. Her hands seemed to be everywhere and she was so warm and soft and close and as soon as he could move he could fill his own hands with her delightful-

The door blew off its hinges, the impact sending them both sprawling to the ground. The only good part about that was that Kirche's spell prevented 24601 from tensing up, so he didn't particularly hurt himself. The fact that he ended up face down across her chest was _nice_ (mostly – he was maybe half-an-inch from putting his left eye out), but the remnant of his sober mind knew full well who'd be opening Kirche's door that way.

He realized suddenly that he'd stopped pinging Louise after Kirche breathed her passion spell down his throat (not that he particularly _minded_ that he was bewitched). He wasn't entirely sure if he should start again.

"KIRCHE!" Louise howled towards Kirche's general direction. Kirche flipped her hair gracefully and shifted 24601 slightly - enough to give him a mouthful.

"Don't you see that we're kind of busy here, La Vallière?"

"Zerbst! Whose familiar do you think you're touching?"

"Love and fire are the Zerbst family's destiny. It's a fate that burns in our bodies. It is our lifelong goal to embrace this passionate flame. You should know that." Kirche lovingly stroked 24601's hair, while Louise shook in anger.

"Come here, 24601."

"Oh? Louise . . . he is indeed your familiar, but he has his own will too, don't you think? Please respect his choice."

Okay, a mouthful of Kirche was _awesome_, but that just wasn't _fair_. Besides, he could do so much _more_ if he was allowed to move . . . he started pinging Louise again.

"You think I can't tell when someone is under Hold Person? Let him _go_, Zerbst!"

He could practically _hear_ Kirche's smile - Louise had said nothing about the spell of passion. She canceled the paralyzing spell and gave 24601 a long, lingering kiss - and he wasn't particularly inclined to end it. "You don't _really_ want to go back to that frigid little bitch and the pile of hay she makes you sleep on, do you?"

He smiled at Kirche, brushing a hand across her cheek to push some errant hair back. Then he leaned over to nibble her ear. She sighed in pleasure as he gleefully whispered, "She can blow everything in this room to hell with just one spell."

That caused Kirche to jerk back in surprise. 24601 nearly fell over again, but he caught himself and stood up. "Aw, I don't think Kirche wants to play anymore. Time to go, Louise."

Her face was like a thundercloud, but he didn't want to give her time to argue, so he picked her up in a newlywed's carry and headed back to their bedroom.

She started struggling as soon as they were inside, so he set her down and closed the door. She was back to her death-glare.

"I'd say none of that, but you're so cute when you're angry!" He reached over, picked Louise back up by her waist, and gave her a good long kiss to match Kirche's earlier attempt to stick her tongue down his throat. She tried to kick him, but off the floor she didn't have much leverage, and her nightgown got in the way anyway. Finally he set her down and she broke away.

"Like some stray dog in heat . . ." her voice was quivering.

"Eh?" What was she talking about? _Female_ dogs went into heat. Like humans, the males were always in season.

"I almost saw you as a p-person. Looks like I was wrong. And you went to wag your tail at that Zerbst w-witch . . ." Louise reached into a drawer in her desk for something. A whip.

"Oooh, kinky." He grabbed the whip from her hands and tossed it out the window. "I don't play those games, though." Then he tossed _her_ onto the bed. "I'll be just a minute," he promised, pulling his shirt off and unbuttoning his pants.

"Stop that right now!"

He laughed. "If you really wanted to stop me, you'd be giving me an ice-cold shower."

Mouth opening in surprise, she spun to the four buckets of water that he hauled up every night. A grab for her wand, a quick incantation - water temperature was one of those simple spells anyone could do - and then one by one the four buckets emptied ice-cold water over 24601.

He collapsed to hands and knees as the shivering became almost uncontrollable - but at least his mind was clear again. "Well done, mistress. I'm . . . back in control again." Or something like that - his teeth were chattering too much for easy speech.

He went over to one of his dufflebags, pulled out his towel, and started drying off.

"You're 'back in control'?" Oh. Right. Pissed-off mistress.

"There was a second spell." He looked over to see her rubbing her side where he'd grabbed her. "Aw, shit, Louise, I'm _sorry_ about that."

She just frowned at him. "_What_ second spell?"

"I don't know what it's called, Mr. Colbert hasn't covered it. After she paralyzed me, she chanted a spell and then . . . did to me what I just did to you. Suddenly I was on fire with lust and I didn't _care_ about anything else."

"So you _are_ a stray dog in heat."

Yeah, whatever, if that's how she wanted to put it. "_Was_, thank you." He glanced down at his crotch. "Yeah. _Was_. There's a _reason_ my people take cold showers when we're . . . struggling to control our passion." He got his PJs out and started putting them on.

"24601! What _happened_?"

"Right. Okay, I went down to drop your laundry off, and Flame was waiting for me when I got back up. He wouldn't let me by, and eventually grabbed me and pulled me into Kirche's room. That's when I starting pushing at your mind, to warn you that I was in trouble.

"She . . . made an offer. I turned her down. She said that she couldn't let me do that, and hit me with Hold Person. Then she did her . . . passion-breath spell, whatever it's called. Fortunately, she didn't even have time to lift the Hold Person before you blasted the door open.

"She got rid of _that_ spell, but not the other. So there I was, still on fire with lust, and there you were, ready to blow the entire room to hell. She backed off and I . . . focused on you."

"So you're saying you weren't yourself?"

He shook his head. "No, that _was_ me." Her eyes widened, and he sighed. "Louise, a very few men just don't care about . . . that stuff. Most of us, however? We go crazy and become amoral sluts as soon as our voices start to deepen. We . . . it can take _years_ to learn restraint and self-control, but a lot of us are so awkward and fumbling that we _have_ years before any girl will say yes to us.

"In my case . . . I developed more self-control than most. I . . . expected to court and marry once I had a good living, and I didn't want to anything to interfere with my goal of learning what I needed to achieve that. It's like I made a promise to myself, that the time would _eventually_ come for all that.

"Kirche's spell . . . suddenly I didn't care if all the conditions were satisfied, so it was time to . . . ." he trailed off, feeling intensely awkward.

"Then . . . why did you tell me to dump those buckets on you, if you thought . . ."

He shrugged. "You'd dragged me back to your room, and suddenly you were acting . . . coy. I was just pointing out how silly you were being." He grimaced. "Again, Louise, I'm sorry as _hell_ for tonight. I _don't_ rape women, but it's like I was convinced . . ." he trailed off again.

She was looking at the floor, and mumbled something.

"Sorry? I didn't catch that."

She flushed and glared at him. "Why didn't you s-stay with t-that WITCH, then!"

He tilted his head, considering . . . then walked over, sat on the bed next to her, and put his arm around her, drawing her against his side. She stiffened for a moment, then slumped against him. "It's because you're my familiar, isn't it? You're forced to be loyal to me."

"No." His other hand rose to brush a bit of hair off her cheek. "Kirche is pretty, but so are you. I just like you more." That was, at least, an evasion: The familiar magic was likely what made him prefer Louise, after all.

She blushed again and looked down. "I didn't give you permission to sit on my bed."

He laughed softly. "No, you didn't." He kissed her on the top of her head, stood up, and snapped his fingers to turn the lamp off.

As he lay down on his air-mattress . . . "Sweet dreams, Louise."

He heard her sigh again. "Go to sleep, 24601."

He frowned. Why had he even bothered with that bit of nonsense?

"Louise?"

"Yes?"

"That whole business with '24601' was stupid and melodramatic. I'm sorry. My name is Jason."

A pause.

"Good night, Jason."

**A/N:**

Saito never developed much of a mental connection to Louise. A couple of times, when she was in danger, he was able to see through her eyes, and her presence would always suppress his homesickness. {Redacted}, however, was able to talk to his familiar _and_ hear the responses. Clearly there are various . . . possibilities.

Quick bit of Saito-bashing: You get told that familiars have powers and your curiosity isn't engaged enough to find out what you might be able to do? You don't want to spend any time practicing? You have to wait for your inner dick to get you in trouble and rely on your plot armor to save your ass? Sheesh.

Moving on. If you can see through your familiar's eyes, and if they do what you want them to . . . wouldn't combining that effectively be 'possessing' your familiar? I don't know if that's what the author intended, but I'm assuming that most masters are able to do exactly that.

Kirche was genuinely interested in Saito after he kicked Guiche's ass, and tried to snag him on what was clearly a whim, since she didn't clear her calendar. Kirche's abduction of Jason is a cold-blooded attempt to score points against Louise by 'stealing her man'. Which, note, is a traditional way for the Zerbsts to score points off the Vallières. That was also a motivation when it came to Saito, but it was a happy side-effect rather than the main reason. With Jason, Kirche intended to fake it. (If you've ever been a geek in high school, someone may have acted interested in order to set you up for humiliation. That may or may not have happened to Jason, but despite Kirche's protests to the contrary he _did_ correctly recognize the setup for what it was.)

Kirche's kiss of passion normally gets used when she's breaking in a new boy-toy and he has performance anxiety. It obviously has utility as a date-rape spell - although if you already know Hold Person it's a bit redundant - but it also has limitations. She could shift Jason's priorities, but not actually _remove_ his ability to think. Or, for that matter, suppress the familiar bond.


	8. Another Voice: Shopkeeper

**Another Voice: Shopkeeper**

It was a bright day, but the shop was dark, lit only by a single flickering lamp. Weapons were hung upon the walls and scattered over the shelves in haphazard fashion. A detailed suit of armor posed on a stand, and the proprietor slouched against the counter, smoking his pipe. Business was, as usual, slow.

A figure, shrouded in a hooded cloak, chose that moment to walk in. The proprietor was a moderately skilled fighter, enough to evaluate a person by his - oh, this one was a her! - walk. Confident without strutting, so she probably knew her business well enough that he couldn't expect to cheat her.

He bowed low. "Good day to you, madam. How may I serve you?"

"I wish to inspect your wares."

"Certainly. May I know why? If I know what you are looking for I can help you find it without wasting your valuable time."

She pulled her hood back and gave him a piercing look. "I'm interested in anything you have that is magic."

"Magic?" Inwardly he grinned. "I have just the thing, madam!"

It took but a moment in the back and he had it. The sword that he brought back out was a great-hander with a blade almost five feet long. It was lavishly decorated with jewels, and the blade was so polished and gleaming that it could be used as a mirror. "This sword, madam, was forged by Lord Shupei, famo-"

"I've heard of him."

"Then you know what his blades are capable of. His alchemy ensures that the blade can cut through any metal like butter-"

"_That_ sword has been treated with a mirror-finish potion and nothing else. If you don't have any real magic than this has been a waste of my time."

He tried to hide his flinch. How did she-

"She's seen right through you, you old fraud!"

This time he couldn't conceal his shudder. Of all the times for that Brimir-damned rusty-

The woman was looking in the corner where the voice had come from. "Who is there? I don't see anyone."

"Are your eyes just for decoration, lady? Look again!"

The proprietor whimpered. "Derf, please calm down, she-"

The woman strode over to the pile of swords in the corner and pulled out a thin, rusty longsword. "Say something again, sword."

"Oh, no, you don't want him to get started-!"

"Shut up, you old fraud, the lady is talking to me, now!"

"What is your name, sword?"

"I am the great Derflinger! I have-"

"Indeed. Be quiet now."

The proprietor's eyes bulged wide as the sword was, blessedly, silent.

The woman made her way to the counter, rusty sword in hand. "This is what I was seeking."

"Then, if you want to take that rude scrap of rust off my hands, it'll only be-"

"You will give it to me for free, and I will not send a letter to Lord Shupei describing how you polish ash-steel with cheap potions to pass off as his work."

"Y-yes, madam." Better to get her out of his shop before she figured out any of his other little tricks.


	9. Explosions I

**Explosions, Part I**

Jason went down for more water as soon as he woke up. By the time he made it up the stairs - panting only slightly, now, after a few weeks of this - Louise was awake and dressed. She washed her face herself that morning, and refused to meet his eyes as they brushed their teeth. (He kept kits in both dufflebags, since you never knew when the planes would lose some of your luggage, and so he had a spare toothbrush for Louise to use.) She even insisted on brushing her own hair as she studied before breakfast.

_Deriving from first principles, she could A) be freaked out and feeling shy, B) be freaked out and feeling _disgusted_, or C) be annoyed at the situation and planning something. I wish we knew how to narrow that down._

_If it's A - _please_ let it be A - my 'commoner' status is probably a sticking point. We'd better give her time to settle her own mind._

* * *

At breakfast, Siesta somehow knew _something_ had happened between Kirche and Jason, and teased the details out of him. He decided not to mention that he'd almost tried to rape Louise while under the influence, and simply concluded with how she had soaked him in ice-cold water to cool his ardor.

For her part, Siesta was delightedly shocked by how direct Kirche had been, and was quick to agree with Jason that Kirche's most likely motives had nothing to do with him and everything to do with hurting Louise.

"That Germanian witch ignores commoners even more than the other nobles," she declared. "And we're happy about it. At least she isn't constantly trying to drag us to her bedroom, unlike some of the _boys_ enrolled here."

Jason winced. "Yeah. I've tried not to think about that too hard, since I don't have a way to make them stop." Not that he'd heard complaints, but given human nature a lot of that _had_ to be going on.

Siesta shrugged. "It's not too bad. We make sure that the newcomers know who and where to avoid. Also - no one's told you how to escape a familiar, have they?"

"Uh, no, but wouldn't you just run?"

She nodded. "First, though, you need to stun them. If you hit them on the head, it really confuses them." Giggle. "Just like kicking a boy between the legs, it gives you time to disappear."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. It works like this!" She reached across the table and bonked him good between the eyes.

"Ow." He rubbed his now-aching forehead. "Did I do something to offend you, Siesta?"

"Does that really hurt?" He nodded. "Oh, I'm sorry! The other familiars don't act hurt when we do that."

"The other familiars borrow their masters' minds to think." He decided not to fend off the cold cloth she was now trying to apply to his face, and closed his eyes to give her more room for her ministrations. "The blow must interfere with that. Since my mind is all my own, well . . ."

Jason could feel her proximity - and beneath the uniform she was fairly curvy. He decided his increased awareness was a lingering aftereffect from last night and did his best to ignore it. "Thank you for the tip, though. I don't know if Kirche is the type to move on or to try again."

* * *

The cloth may or may not have worked - Louise didn't comment on his face one way or another during morning classes. Fortunately, Kirche did not approach them that morning.

During the afternoon, Louise was finally able to light a small candle without blowing it up. She immediately wanted to practice the next spell in the series. Mr. Colbert frowned as he responded, "You were able to mimic the results of Ignite, Miss Vallière, but I'm afraid that was still an explosion rather than a true casting. On the other hand," he quickly continued as she drooped in disappointment, "it's remarkable that you've developed such fine control over how strong your magic is."

He sighed heavily as he continued. "There are . . . some other grimoires that I haven't given you to read. They mostly deal with the use of Fire as a weapon, and maybe that's where your talents lie."

This was only the latest in a series of comments that Jason had noted from Mr. Colbert. The man was _good_ with Fire, but he hated its destructive applications and much preferred to teach the peaceful and constructive applications. Given that Fire was the most obviously weaponizable of the elements, and probably the easiest to teach when it came to combat spells, _and_ given that Mr. Colbert's mage title was Flame Snake, Jason had a guess or two about what Mr. Colbert had been before he'd become a teacher.

He decided to offer the war-weary veteran some consolation. "Explosions aren't just for war, sir. My people use special machines called 'engines' that convert back-and-forth movement into rotating movement, and the best way to get that back-and-forth is a series of tiny explosions."

For the first time in weeks, Mr. Colbert really _looked_ at Jason. "Miss Vallière," he said after a moment of thought. "May I borrow your familiar for a little while after class? Perhaps during dinner?"

She nodded silently, and waited until Mr. Colbert was helping another student to hiss at Jason. "What did you do? I make him waste too much of his time on me already!"

"I don't know," he whispered back. "I was just . . . you know what? Never mind. I'll let you know what he wants tonight."

* * *

But Louise chose to accompany Jason to his appointment with Mr. Colbert. Since this was to be during dinner, Jason went to the kitchen first to pick up his dinner porridge. Upon hearing the situation, Chef Marteau sent Siesta with them, carrying enough food for four. Naturally, Jason insisted on carrying the heaviest parts. Louise frowned at this, but didn't say anything.

Mr. Colbert's suite had a tiny room where he slept and kept his clothing, and then a much larger area where he kept his experiments. "Headmaster Osmond gave me four full-sized suites," he explained while they quickly ate, "and had the walls removed so that I had one large working-area."

He and Jason finished first, so while Louise(who was too well-trained to cram everything down as quickly as possible) lingered and Siesta cleaned up, Mr. Colbert brought Jason over to his latest experiment. "What do you make of this?" he asked. It was a moderately complicated mess of gears, but some parts stood out.

"Is that a water tank?" Jason asked, and Mr. Colbert nodded. "It looks like it's leading to a steam piston, but I don't see a heater underneath - do you just boil the water with magic?"

"For now. It's not the best way, since I eventually run out of mana, but once I perfect the rest I can add a place for fuel. Would you like to see what it does?"

Jason nodded and Mr. Colbert set the water in the tank to boiling. The piston started moving back and forth, accompanied by the whistle of escaping steam. Gears turned, and a little snake puppet emerged from the mass of machinery.

"Interesting," Jason offered.

"Very interesting, yes. Unfortunately, the steam escapes so quickly, and it would use up a great deal of fuel to keep it boiling naturally. You said your people use explosions? I've been wondering about that myself."

Jason shrugged. "The first engines that I know about were made a couple of thousand years ago, in the time of the Roman Empire. They . . . didn't do very much with them. I think it had to do with how much pressure the steam engines could safely use. Then about 300 years ago, I _think_, someone came up with a way to safely use steam with a lot more pressure.

"We built massive carriages that were nothing but engine, and used those to pull other massive carriages in a long line. They were so heavy that we built short steel rails on the ground to support their weight. We called the lines of carriages 'trains' and the rails that they could travel on 'railroads'. The trains could only travel along the railroads, but . . . a courier can travel, what, a hundred miles a day if he has remounts stationed along the way?"

Mr. Colbert nodded. "Royal couriers use flying creatures - wind dragons like Miss Tabitha's familiar are best - but you're right about horse-couriers."

"Well, even the early trains could cover two hundred miles a day or more, and they could carry hundreds of passengers or tons of supplies."

"Hundreds of passengers . . ." Mr. Colbert's eyes were shining.

"Obviously, during wartime, destroying segments of the enemy's railroad could be critical."

Mr. Colbert sighed and nodded. "Obviously. What about using the explosions?"

"Instead of steam, you use a series of tiny explosions to drive the pistons. Obviously, the piston has to be built a little differently. You spray in a mix of fuel and air, because that explodes really well-" Mr. Colbert flinched a tiny bit. Jason lifted an eyebrow. "-which you may already know if you've ever seen a grain silo explode."

Mr. Colbert nodded. "I have. Should I use grain-dust, do you think?"

Jason shook his head. "You want the fuel to be controlled until you're ready to light it, and dust would fly everywhere. We use something called 'gasoline', but-"

"Oil? You mean like the lamp oil commoners use? I could get some of that."

"Damn. No. It's a kind of oil, but you don't have the specific concept in your language so it just comes out as 'oil'. Um. Okay. Ever hear of . . . ponds or swamps or marshes where black oil bubbles to the surface? People may collect it to use as medicine - I think my people did at one time."

"Black oil . . . that sounds like something an alchemist would be interested in, but alchemy is more Earth and Water than Fire. I can ask some of the other teachers about it."

Jason shrugged. "As you like. Anyway, what you do is distill black oil, and the most volitile parts evaporate first. The two fuel oils that I know of that are distilled from black oil are called 'kerosene' and 'gasoline'. Did you get those words this time?"

"'Kerosene' and 'gasoline'?"

"Yes, that's it. Kerosene is sometimes a gas, I think. It's the most volatile, anyway. I know gasoline is always a liquid, so it's easier to handle. You spray a tiny bit of gasoline into the explosion chamber of your piston, and cause a spark. The gasoline explodes and drives the piston."

Mr. Colbert was taking careful notes. "And this gasoline is the best substance?"

Jason nodded. "It has a _lot_ of power. We've been using it for a hundred years now, because we can't find anything even more powerful that's safe to use." Best not to complicate this with discussions of nuclear power just yet.

"So I need to find out about those ponds you mentioned."

"Well . . . gasoline is dangerous itself. Experimenting with lamp oil while you figure out how to get pistons to work with explosions rather than steam is probably safer."

Mr. Colbert rubbed his chin, considering. "A working model would be even better. Where are you from, if I may ask? I have never heard of 'steam engines', 'trains', or 'railroads' in Halkeginia."

Jason gave a wry grin. "I'm from over sea and under stone, beyond weird and haunted shores."

Mr. Colbert gave him a Look in response.

"Sorry, sir, but I can't actually answer you. I've never heard of Halkeginia or Tristain myself, so I have no idea where I am in relation to where I was born."

"Oh. You must be from the lands beyond the elves. I've heard they have fabulous creations . . ."

Louise finished dinner right about then, and since she wasn't all that interested in the machines, Mr. Colbert had to content himself with what he'd already heard.

Siesta had an awed expression as they left Mr. Colbert to his notes. Apparently she'd been listening. "Two hundred miles a day, and hundreds of people per train! They could . . . they could let commoners ride in them!"

Jason nodded. "They did. Anyone who could pay the fee could ride on a train, and the fee wasn't that high."

"You could cross all of Halkeginia in just a few weeks!"

He decided not to mention cars or airplanes - or, for that matter, the speeds that modern trains could attain. Siesta was handling this limited exposure to technological advances fairly well. Better to let her get used to the idea of 19th century tech before he jumped to the 21st century.

* * *

Louise kept silent, letting Siesta do the chattering until she stopped at the servant dorms. Then Louise waited until they were alone in her room and Jason set down tomorrow's water-buckets. "Was all that real? All that talk about 'trains' and steam and oil?"

"Yes."

"And anyone can use them?"

"Again, yes."

"You can go anywhere, and you train clockwork minds to do all the work. No _wonder_ you don't think like a commoner."

"Indeed. Speaking of thinking, I have an idea for training with our familiar bond."

"What?"

"Since you can't tell me what you want directly through the link, I want to develop a series of codes - maybe based on short and long pushes - so that we can send actual messages to each other. It might have saved time last night if I could have sent you a code that said 'Kirche has kidnapped me and taken me to her room, please please _please_ save me!'"

Louise looked stunned. "We _could_ do that," she said after a moment. "Why didn't I _THINK_ of that?"

Jason shrugged. "I didn't either. Someone in my homeland came up with the basic idea back when trains and railroads were getting invented. Although he was using tame lightning rather than magic familiar bonds."

"Why didn't you say anything about it before?"

"I wasn't going to until we had a bit more practice - I wanted us to be able to wake each other up fairly easily with a push, first. But if Kirche gets it in her head to send Flame after me again, I want to be able to get help before she's able to kiss me."

Louise frowned. "You shouldn't take my laundry down tonight. Do it in the morning, so I can go down with you."

Jason rubbed his head, embarrassed. "Yeah. Pity I don't have a Ring of Free Action or something."

"A what?"

"Um . . . it's from a game that I haven't had time to play for . . . wow, almost 5 years. A group of friends pretend to be . . . heroic warriors and mages. One of us makes up a ruined castle or something filled with traps to avoid, evil creatures to slay, and treasures to claim. Then we tell stories about exploring the castle and what we find. A Ring of Free Action makes sure you can't be chained up, or stuck in spider webs, or grabbed by a monster, or paralyzed with a spell . . ."

Louise was staring at him, open-mouthed. He blushed.

"Hey, it could be a lot of fun if the friend who made up the ruined castle did a good job of describing everything."

"I stopped playing make-believe when I was 10."

"This wasn't quite make-believe. Um . . . you know how servants will get together and dice away their salaries?"

Louise nodded. "I sometimes snuck out of bed at night, and I saw them doing that a few times."

"Well, instead of rolling dice to see who wins the pot, we rolled dice to see if we managed to kill the ogres before they killed us."

"Ah. You were _practicing_. That's different."

". . . Wait, what?"

"Well that's where orcs like to hide, right? The basements of ruined buildings."

"Orcs. As in, human-sized or a bit bigger, really strong, like to fight, really nasty and cruel?"

"Exactly! Oh, I should write to Father about this - he was always going on about how the younger generation don't care enough to hunt down hidden colonies of orcs and ogres, or are too afraid, or . . . if he makes a game out it he can teach the rising generation how to do it right before he's too old to go hunting himself!"

"Oh, shit, orcs and ogres are _real_ . . ."

* * *

**A/N:**

Mr. Colbert was going to invent the internal combustion engine on his own in a few more weeks. The guy is an inventive genius, and probably has enough Earth to fabricate his designs directly.


	10. Explosions II

**Explosions, Part II**

Jason made sure to quietly ask Mr. Colbert if something like a Ring of Free Action actually existed, reasoning that a veteran would have a good chance of knowing about something useful like that. As it turned out . . . sort of.

You could create an amulet that would block a specific spell. If you could find the right reagents, you could even create such an amulet without using any actual magic, although knowing which reagents to use required either magic or _exceptional_ skill and organization. Of course, such an amulet was likely to last only a few times before the strain of blocking the magic broke it. An amulet that wouldn't break under the strain required some fairly skillful magic to create.

The problem was, even if you blocked one spell, there were usually others that could achieve the same effect. If he could block Hold Person, it wouldn't do any good if someone cast Sleep on him. For that matter, an Air mage could trap him in a cage of hardened air, or an Earth mage could cause stone hands to rise up out of the ground and grab his legs . . .

There , Jason found out, a universal Dispel Magic spell, but it required more mana to overwhelm a spell than the spell required to be cast in the first place. Which got him into the subject of mana storage - not possible, supposedly - and the purpose of wands. Later that evening he tried to convince Louise to get a second wand that specialized in Dispel Magic, but she didn't think her father would be willing to send her enough money.

As for the rest of the Free Action effects, there _was_ a Water spell that would make the target very slippery indeed. The problem was that if you were slippery all over you wouldn't be able to stand up (and for that matter, your clothes might fall off), so for a magic item you would have to know in advance what parts of your body would be made slippery. Oh, and since the spell in question was useful for getting out of restraints, enchanting an item with it without a Royal warrant was illegal.

Jason, discouraged, decided to settle for practicing punching as hard as he could, so that if Kirche sent Flame after him again he'd be able to hit the salamander between the eyes and run.

* * *

It was a few days after going over engines with Mr. Colbert that Louise and Jason heard about the Vault being broken into and robbed during the night. Naturally, they hurried over with the rest of the students to watch.

". . . speaking, how many of you here can say that you're always vigilant throughout your tour of duty?" Headmaster Osmond was saying to the teachers.

The teachers looked at each other and hung their heads in shame. There was silence.

"Tour of duty?" Jason whispered to Louise.

"They're supposed to have a teacher standing guard here every night," she whispered back.

"I don't think I've ever seen one at night."

"They always go to bed as soon as they think they can get away with it."

"Huh. Okay, why is he fondling-"

Headmaster Osmond was addressing the students, now, so Jason shut up. "Was there anyone at all who witnessed the theft? If you were out past curfew, don't worry, we won't punish you no matter what you were doing."

Silence among the students.

Madam Chevreuse spoke up. She had been examining the hole while ignoring Headmaster Osmond's wandering hand. "Headmaster, it appears that a potion has been applied to this section of the wall every night for at least the past two weeks. If the wall became weak enough, a Triangle or even Line of Earth could call up an elemental strong enough to break through."

With this pronouncement, an excited whispering broke out in the crowd. "Fouquet, Fouquet . . . it's got to be Fouquet."

"Who's Fouquet?" Jason whispered to Louise.

"He's a Triangle of Earth who wanders around Halkeginia and steals everything," she whispered back. "No one's heard from him in half-a-year, so people thought he'd finally gotten killed, or maybe just bored with stealing. Sometimes they call him the Crumbling Dirt, because he can break through any wall, and sometimes they call him the Earthen Fist, because when he's been cornered he calls up a huge Earth elemental to let him escape."

A woman - green hair, which wasn't even a shock, he was almost _used_ to this world by now - came walking out of the hole. She rather carefully stopped out of the old pervert's reach, Jason noticed.

"Ah, Miss Longueville," Headmaster Osmond said. "What did you discover?"

"You were correct, sir. _It_ is missing, and Fouquet left his signature taunt."

"Good!" Headmaster Osmond boomed out. "With that signature, we can track the stolen item for a few more hours. Who will volunteer to go hunt down Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt?"

The teachers all looked at each other. No one moved.

"Got a reputation for being dangerous to tangle with, I take it," Jason whispered again.

Louise nodded.

Headmaster Osmond scowled. "No one? Is there truly _no one_ with the courage to face Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt?"

Louise set her face, and Jason could only look on in horror as she raised her wand.

"Miss Vallière!" Madam Chevreuse exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing? This is something for the teachers to handle!"

"And none of you are willing to try!" Louise protested.

"Well, _I'm_ not willing to lose to the Vallière family," said Kirche, and lifted her wand as well.

Jason had had enough. He grabbed Louise's wand with his left hand and scooped her up with his right arm, pinning her arms to her sides. "Miss Vallière is NOT going," he announced firmly to sudden silence.

"PUT ME _DOWN_ YOU WRETCHED COMMONER!" she yelled in response, doing her best to kick him in the crotch. Fortunately for his future posterity, she had a hard time aiming since he was holding her against his side.

Mr. Colbert started nodding. "This is a matter for us teachers to handle. Miss Vallière and Miss Zerbst should remain here. I will go, instead."

Kirche was adamant, however. "Mr. Colbert, I'm a Triangle of Fire! I can face Fouquet on equal grounds just like you."

Mr. Colbert's face . . . changed. It was subtle, but his eyes were suddenly-

That's _how you do a thousand-yard stare_, Jason noted to himself, still fending off Louise's attempts to escape. Which had escalated to biting.

Tabitha, the blue-haired Gallian Triangle of Air with the wind dragon, suddenly raised her wand. "I'll go," she said softly but clearly. "It'll be faster on Sylphid."

"Good, good," Headmaster Osmond said. "Three Triangles on a dragon should be more than enough to defeat Fouquet."

Miss Longueville spoke up. "As a Line of Earth, I can't face Fouquet directly, but I can try to counter any traps he might set for pursuers." This was also taken as a good idea.

They left quickly, to preserve the tracking time that Headmaster Osmond's spell allowed. Seeing that the excitement was over, Jason headed back up to Louise's room, figuring that what happened next would go better in private.

* * *

"Alright," he said. "I'm going to set you down, but first, here are the rules: No biting, no scratching, no kicking, no spellcasting. No hitting me above my chest or below my belly. That said, feel free to pound on me for as long as you want." And then he let her go, carefully tensing his stomach muscles.

"What did you do with my wand!" she snarled, hands clenching into claws.

"Handed it off to someone for safekeeping. Watch what you're doing with your hands - fists are fine, claws are not."

Glaring him in the eye, she marched over and, after considering it, drove her fist into his belly as hard as she could. It rocked him back half-an-inch, but that's why he was keeping those muscles tense - so she couldn't drive the wind out of him. "Good," he said to her. "Do it again."

She hit him again. He nodded in approval. She let out a howl and started hitting him as fast and as hard as she could, eschewing careful aim to just pound on his chest over and over and over . . .

Eventually she stopped, gasping for breath. He left her to it and went over to the buckets of water. Usually there was still one left untouched in the morning, and today was no exception. He used a mug to get a nice, cool drink, then refilled it and brought it to Louise.

She drank it so quickly that he brought her another one. Then she set the mug on the table and started hitting him again.

When she stopped the second time, Jason brought her some more water. After another two cups, she walked over to the washroom to urinate. When she came back out, Jason lifted an eyebrow. Her growl was the only response, so he shrugged and offered his chest for more tenderizing.

It was during the fifth round that a knock came on the door. Louise broke off suddenly.

"Do you want to get that, or should I?" Jason asked her mildly. She didn't respond, so he walked over (carefully, since by now his chest, sides, and back were all feeling . . . tender) and opened the door.

Siesta was carrying their lunch on a tray. Her eyes opened wide as she saw Jason. "You're bleeding! What happened to your lip?"

He rubbed the indicated spot gingerly. "Bit of an accident - she wasn't trying to hit me there, I just moved my head wrong. Don't worry about it." He took the tray, thanked her, and went back inside.

"So," he said as he set the tray down, "do you want to resume round 5, or should we eat and then continue with round 6?"

"Not hungry," she muttered. But she sat at the table . . . and grabbed both glasses of lemonade. Glaring at him, daring him to object, she drank one of them and put the other one on the table in front of her. He shrugged and got another mug of water.

"You _should_ eat," he pointed out. "You skipped breakfast, and after all that exercise your body needs to replenish."

"I _said_ I'm not hungry."

"It's not about what you feel, Louise. It's about what you need." He eyed her and sighed. "For the record, it's been almost 10 years since I did this, so I'm probably rusty."

He picked up a bite from the lunch tray and started waving it around, making a loud humming noise as he swooped it in dives and climbs like an airplane. Louise's look had changed from tired fury to sheer WTF?ness at his antics, but as soon as she opened her mouth to say something, his hand darted forward and deposited the food into her mouth.

She continued to stare in shock for a moment, then chewed and swallowed. "What was _that_ about?"

"Um . . . I guess around here it would be called 'wind dragon looking for a place to land'."

"And you did this 10 years ago?"

"I was asked to look after some other kids. They didn't always want to eat, so sometimes I had to make it a game."

She looked at him. Then at the plate. Then back at him. "Well?"

He rolled his eyes and picked up another bite from the tray.

She succeeded in biting his fingers on the third mouthful.

"SonovaBITCH!"

She chewed, swallowed, and smirked. "You _said_ this was a game."

"I really need to introduce the fork and the spoon around here."

By the end of the meal, his hand was covered in crumbs and tooth-marks.

"So," he said, making to stand up, "shall we-"

Louise grabbed his hand. "I'm not done with my meal."

"I think you-" he froze as she began nibbling his hand and licking up the crumbs.

Even with the lingering soreness from the bite-marks, this was starting to turn him on. Hands have a lot more nerves per square inch than the average for the human body, and to have the softness of her lips and tongue caressing and sucking each finger in turn . . .

Mindful of the special hell, he stayed completely still as she finished up with his thumb. She looked at him, eyes glinting, and moved back to the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger. Then, holding his hand firmly in place with both of hers, she bit down, _hard_.

Half-expecting something like this, he managed to keep his reaction down to a hiss between clinched teeth until she let him go.

"I thought you were going to draw blood there," he commented as he examined his poor maimed appendage.

"Who says I wasn't trying?" she retorted.

He sighed and drank his porridge. "Yeah, I am _so_ going to invent forks and spoons."

"What _are_ those?"

"A spoon is a very small cup or bowl on the end of a handle. You use it to scoop out bits of food and bring them to your mouth - very useful for liquids like soup and porridge. A fork is . . . think of a knife, but instead of having a cutting edge the blade branches out into 3 or 4 short spikes for stabbing pieces of food and bringing them to your mouth. They both help keep your hands clean. _Also_ useful for playing 'dragon landing' without getting bitten."

She smirked. "You didn't like it when your master cleaned your hand for you?"

He shivered. "It _was_ rather nice, until the end. Didn't I say 'no biting'?"

"That was when I was hitting you. This was lunch."

_Yeah, if she's doing that rather _female_ trick of blatant rule changing, she's got to be feeling better._

"Alright. Ready to talk about it?"

She scowled. "I should go find my whip and start round 6."

He was _pretty_ sure that her heart wasn't really into it, though. "No whips, we already covered that. Although . . . why did you even _have_ a whip?"

"It was a gift from my oldest sister, Eléonore. She's . . . she can be mean, sometimes, but she loves me and wants me to do well."

_Okay, either you're a _lot_ more mature about your sister than you are about _everything_ else, or else she's abusive _but_ she paid you more attention than anyone else in your family._

"And the whip?"

"In case I needed to discipline my familiar. She thought I might not be able to control it with just the bond." Louise tilted her head in a move that Jason would _swear_ was copied from his own 'emphasizing an irony' head-tilt. "She was _right_, too!"

"Perhaps. Let's go back to this morning, though. Are you ready to talk about it?"

Louise sighed. "You don't give up, do you? I guess I'm ready."

"Good, because I'm starting to stiffen up. So what's on your mind?"

"Why did you stop me from going? Don't you know how much that shamed me in front of everyone?"

He stood up, set his face, and looked her in the eye. "I don't know what your level really is, because we haven't found your correct element, or the correct approach to your element, or whatever the hell the problem is. Effectively, however? You are a low-end Dot who can also do Line-level explosions. Fouquet is a Triangle who can get into anything and has a nasty reputation for dealing with pursuers.

"I am your _friend_, Louise, and I will NOT let you KILL yourself!"

She was trembling with rage again, and she stood up, walked over to Jason, and started hitting him. After a few blows, she started hiccupping, and Jason gathered her in (wincing, because his chest really _was_ sore) as she started sobbing in earnest.

It took her a while to cry out.

...

...

...

"My mother's a Square," Louise finally got out between hiccuping sobs. "A _good_ one. Father would be a Square if he'd just take the time to practice. Eléonore's a Line and _she's_ going to be a Triangle soon, and then a Square after that. My other sister, Cattleya, she's also a Line, and if her health were better _she'd_ be able to be a Triangle, too! I'm not even a real Dot yet!" she concluded with a wail.

"These are your _older_ sisters, though, right?"

"That doesn't matter! They were both Lines when they were 16! And I'm stuck as a sub-Dot, and even with the magic I _can_ do I can't do anything important because that Zerbst WITCH does it ten times better and has a chest and has everyone lining up to do whatever she wants and I'll never ever be . . ." she reburied her head in his shoulder as new sobs shook her body.

_I have to admit, she's got better reasons for her adolescent angst than we ever did._

_Although we may have some solutions for her magic._

_But in the absence of strong evidence to the contrary, assume an upset woman wants comfort, not problem-solving._

So he held her, and stroked her hair, and waited until she'd cried herself out again.

"That's quite the burden you're carrying, and no mistake. Is that the full load, or is there anything else I should know about? A deadly prophecy, enemies in the Royal court . . . anything?"

Louise shook her head, mumbling into his shoulder. "Kirche is enough of an enemy. The Zerbst estates are right up against the Vallière estates, and we've been fighting each other for centuries."

"So it feels like you're failing your family _again_, to lose to her. Oh, Louise, I'm sorry."

He held her in silence for a moment.

"That _is_ all, though, right? La Vallière isn't in trouble with the throne or anything, yes?"

"No, we're not. When I was growing up I would even-" Her grip tightened as a fresh horror presented itself. "Oh, no, she's coming and there's no time-!"

"_Who_ is coming, Louise?"

"Princess Henrietta! She's coming back from Germania soon and she's going to visit on Brimir's Day! I promised her I would have a wonderful familiar to show her! And my magic! It was supposed to be better now!"

"Well, your magic _is_ better, now. And . . . I'd like to think I'm not _too_ horrible to have around."

Louise pulled her face out of his shoulder and just looked at him. "Kirche has a _salamander_. Tabitha has a _wind dragon_."

"Point."

"She's going to be so disappointed!"

"I take it she's a friend?"

"We used to play together, when we were children."

"Hmmm . . . you know, I don't think she'll be as disappointed as you expect. If you've struggled with magic all your life, she'll be happy for you that you've come as far as you have."

Louise looked away. "She needs strong allies like Kirche or Tabitha, not weak little girls who can't even cast Ignite properly."

_Should we tell her? As bitter as she is, she could use some cheering._ "Kirche is afraid of you."

"What?"

"She let me go because she was afraid that you would try to cast a spell in her room and blow us all to smithereens. I'm not going to tell you everything's fine, but you've got some serious power in your magic." He patted her back. "We could always take Princess Henrietta out to a field and show her how you can blow everything up."

"I'm not _that_ good at making things explode."

"We'll practice, then. Mr. Colbert will probably let us off in the afternoons for independent study."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Speaking of which - afternoon classes are probably starting soon. If Mr. Colbert's still gone, I'm not sure who is supposed to be teaching us, but . . . are you feeling up to heading down there?"

Louise sighed. "We really should. I look horrible, don't I?"

"Let me get a cloth, I'll wash your face off."

After that, Louise insisted on washing _his_ face in return, to get the blood from his split lip off.

"You're not bleeding anywhere else, are you?"

"No." He groaned as he stretched. "Sore, yes. Bleeding, no."

She hunched down. ". . . I shouldn't have hit you so much," she finally mumbled.

He shrugged (and held back a wince). "You've been holding all of that in for _how_ long? All of your life, for some of it. It's healthier to let go of the rage and frustration, if you can, but sometimes you just have to wear yourself out before you can face it."

* * *

The pursuers hadn't yet returned. The 2nd Form Water instructor was standing by to handle their injuries, and Madam Chevreuse was working to fix the breach in the tower, so all the 2nd Forms were being taught by the Air instructor that afternoon.

"For those of you who only have an affinity with the lesser elements, I am Kaita the Gust, a Triangle of Air." Professor Kaita was young and proud, and his introduction set off shocked whispers among the students. He glared them into silence.

"You think my words are arrogant boastings? Wind overcomes everything - dirt, water, and fire. If I must instruct you all today . . . the lesson will be on the proper humility and deference due any mage of Air.

"Is there anyone of you so brash as to challenge me?"

Mr. Rose - Guiche the Bronze - stood up. "My noble father taught me that the elements are equal, that a mage's power lies in his skill, not his affinity."

Kaita sneered. "Indeed. Step forward, young Line of Earth. To demonstrate the superiority of Air, I will restrict myself to Line spells only."

The display was short and brutal. Guiche conjured up bronze warriors from the ground, but Kaita's spells kept them off-balance and crashing into each other until Guiche was exhausted.

A blond girl stood up next. Louise smirked a bit, seeing her. "Montmorency is going to prove that she can succeed where Guiche failed," she whispered to Jason in explanation. Jason then recalled that the girl was the 2nd Form who Guiche had been with, that first day.

Unfortunately for her pride, Kaita's spells completely absorbed her water, and his counter drenched her so badly that she looked half-drowned by the end of it.

Another boy tried fire next - which Kaita snuffed out effortlessly.

"Is there anyone else?" Kaita looked around the room. "You understand then, that the greatest element is, has, and will always be-"

"Fire, of course!" Kirche posed in the doorway, then strutted into the room, preening with every eye upon her. "I heard you were blowing out candles in here - did the Zero think _she_ could represent Fire?"

Jason had a hand on Louise's shoulder immediately, just in case - but perhaps she was too tired to want to fight, for she did nothing.

"Miss Zerbst. If you're so confident, you may present me with your _own_ candle for snuffing."

Kirche's smile disappeared. She raised her wand, and her fiery, crimson long hair stood on end and crackled as if flames were erupting from them as a small fireball appeared. As Kirche chanted her spell, the fireball expanded, resulting in a huge flaming sphere of a meter in diameter. The students leaned back in panic, the closest ones ducking under their desks. Her wrist turned and spiraled towards her chest, and released the fireball.

Professor Kaita made no attempt to dodge the giant sphere of fire heading towards him. He raised his wand, and made sweeping waves as if swinging a sword. A raging gale suddenly began, and instantly scattered the huge fireball. It even knocked down Kirche, who was standing on the far other side of the room. "That, Miss Zerbst, is why Air is the strongest. Wind can sweep up everything. Fire, water, and dirt alike cannot find footing when faced against strong enough winds."

"What are you doing, Kaita?" Mr. Colbert demanded from the doorway. He looked older and weary, but he stood straight as he regarded the Air instructor. "The gust that blows out one flame is consumed by the next. The elements are in balance - it is only the mage who is not."

"Brave words from an old man who's afraid to spar."

"I do not play silly games, _child_. That does not mean I cannot fight, and if these students need to see the balance of elements in action to correct the damage your hubris causes, then so be it."

Mr. Colbert walked over to where Kirche had stood. "Are you ready for you lesson in humility?"

"Any time, old man."

Mr. Colbert nodded, and both men began casting. Kaita's gale raged out again, and it seemed like it would overwhelm the spark that Mr. Colbert had raised. Then the air buffeting Mr. Colbert's spark caught fire, and within seconds the gale was a raging inferno.

Kaita quickly stopped his spell and began casting a new one, but Mr. Colbert gathered the inferno with a flick of his wand to form a giant fiery snake, sending it flying at Kaita. The fire snake grabbed Kaita's wand arm in its jaws, shaking it until the wand flew out of his hand, as the rest of the snake curled around Kaita. Seconds later, Mr. Colbert gestured one last time with his wand and the Air instructor was lifted into the air, securely bound by the coils of the fire snake.

"In a real fight, I would have the snake rip my opponent's throat out, so that I could move on to the next enemy." Mr. Colbert announced coldly. "Sometimes, though, you want to take a prisoner. The advantage of this method is that his allies would not dare disrupt my concentration, because if I let go the fire would burn and consume him." The now-ashen-faced Air instructor was lowered to the ground and the fire snake vanished. "If my students will follow me, regular classes may resume for the rest of the day."

* * *

Mr. Colbert refused to discuss the pursuit of Fouquet, other than to announce that everyone had survived and no one had been seriously wounded.

He also agreed that more practice with the explosions had to be a good thing. To that end, he offered several practical suggestions on how to present targets of increasing difficulty, and released Louise to work on her own for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

That evening, there was a knock on their door. An older maid that Jason didn't recognize was waiting outside.

"Miss Vallière? I'm here to take your measurements."

The woman worked fast, a knotted string practically flying over Louise's body.

"Measurements? Are you getting a new dress, Louise?"

"No, it's to see if my gown has to be adjusted before the ball."

"Ball? What ball?"

"The one for Frigg's day."

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "Keep in mind that I'm from far away. When is Frigg's day?"

"In a few days. Ugh, Kirche is going to be intolerable during the ball."

"Well, it- yeah. She'll be insufferable. Are you sure you want to go?"

"Jason, I can't run away."

"No, I suppose not. But there are ways around that."

"Like what?"

"Get Mr. Colbert to agree to 'punish' you with an assignment that keeps you busy all night. I can talk to him privately for you, if you'd like."

Louise frowned.

Jason shrugged. "Or I could go with you to the ball, keep you company. I've actually got something for formal occasions I could pull out."

She shook her head. "The gossip would be that much worse. No, go talk to Mr. Colbert."

"As you wish."

* * *

**A/N:**

This Colbert is post-retcon. Which means he didn't tell a pretty face the best way to rob the Academy. Likewise, the thief came up with a plan of action that didn't rely on Louise accidentally hitting the tower with an armor-shattering attack.

Anyway.

Fouquet is the same individual as in canon. However, without Gandalfr active to demonstrate how to use the Staff of Destruction, Fouquet didn't make the mistake of revealing Fouquet's identity.

Honestly, would _you_ let Louise go chase Fouquet? Clearly not, it's far too dangerous. Now, early on, Louise could dominate Saito. He left himself wide open to crotch-kicks, among other things. _Jason_ is over a foot taller than Louise and easily weighs more than twice what she does. Dominating _him_ is a just a _wee_ bit harder for her.

. . .

It should be noted that while Jason isn't chasing tail like Saito did, Louise _is_ still something of a tsundere, since she's only starting to deal with her issues. And . . .

Okay, their relationship is dysfunctional. Really, there's something unhealthy about hanging around a girl so that you can snag her as soon as she's 'legal'. (Although Louise already _is_ 'legal' by Tristain law - if Jason had the social status, he could court her and seek her hand in marriage right now.) That said, the magic of his familiar bond isn't just going to let him ignore Louise.

Yes, this version of Mr. Colbert is a badass when he needs to be - ie, he's post-retcon Colbert - and stopping an arrogant brat from poisoning the minds of students is a worthy cause. Oh, and if he didn't keep himself distracted with his hobbies, he could probably make it to Square without too much trouble.


	11. Fugitive I

**A/N:**

So, if you've made it this far, you've probably noticed that Jason isn't getting into the same kinds of trouble that saw Saito stumbling into all sorts of power-ups. (Sorry about Derflinger. I like him. I promise he'll be back. It'll just take a while.)

See, what's going on is that the entity that picks familiars was _looking_ for someone like Saito: Someone who would blunder his way into a ton of trouble and thus power up quickly. Like I said in the summary, America has geeks, and the difference matters. _That's not always a good thing_.

Depending on how you define good.

* * *

**Fugitive, Part I**

"Let me down!"

"No. If you want to impress Henrietta, you need to train."

"But my skirt is bunching up! And-" she broke off. She was almost certainly blushing.

Louise's legs were currently on either side of Jason's neck, with her feet dangling down his chest. His hands were on her knees, holding her steady. Her skirt was providing a fair bit of modesty in back, but the front was bunched up at the back of his head, leaving her legs exposed in front of them. _And_, of course, there was the warmth and pressure pressing up against the back of his neck.

"You've gotten pretty good with the targets, but real enemies don't stand still. You have to learn how to hit a _moving_ target, and since we don't have any right now, that means _you've_ got to be moving."

"I can run around myself!"

"In a skirt? Running around is it's own training, anyway. You wouldn't last long enough to get enough training with your targeting."

Fuming silence. Then she bonked his head. "Just get moving."

For all her embarrassment, she still whooped with delight as he started jogging up and down the field they were practicing on. Then she got down to business.

Hitting the targets was definitely harder this way: He could see she was down to hitting maybe one target in four. So it would be good practice, after all.

_A month ago I would already be panting, halfway to exhausted._ The exercise he'd been getting was paying off as well. Although he was starting to feel _hungry_, even after eating. If his muscle mass was increasing, he'd be needing more calories to sustain himself.

Constantly casting spells - even the smaller explosions - was a good way to exhaust Louise's mana, so they were only spending a few hours each afternoon in the fields behind the Academy. The rest of the time was spent in Mr. Colbert's classroom, studying all the different approaches to Fire that he could find. Not that any of them were working for Louise, but Jason was holding his tongue on that. For now.

* * *

The afternoon light was just starting to dim when they heard the clatter of hooves and the squeak of axels. Louise levitated herself up to get a look, and quickly came back down.

"That's Count Motte's banner," she reported, grimacing. "Take my hand - no, not my wand hand!"

As soon as Jason had a secure grip, Louise levitated both of them up to her room. Jason noticed that she was keeping the Academy walls between them and the visiting noble.

"I take it that this Motte fellow is bad news?" he asked as soon as they were through the window and he didn't have to worry about breaking her concentration.

She looked . . . unsure. "Father didn't like it when he was given a position in the Royal Purse, but . . . I don't know. I just didn't think it was a good idea to let him see a La Vallière alone with a man, even if the man _is_ my familiar."

"So there's bad blood between the Motte family and the La Vallière family, then? Like with the Zerbsts?"

She shook her head. "There _isn't_ a Motte family. He didn't have a title until Cardinal Mazarin selected him."

"'Cardinal'?" Jason tilted his head, concentrating. "Say that word again."

Louise frowned, but . . . "Iman."

"Again."

"Bishop."

"Again."

"High Priest."

"Again."

"Rabbi - what are you _doing_?"

"My language has a lot of words that can mean something like 'Cardinal'. I'm trying to see which ones won't fit."

"Why don't you just tell me the rest of them? That'll be faster."

Jason blinked. "Okay. Um . . . Minister, Deacon, Priest, Parish Priest, Patriarch, Apostle, um . . . Prophet, Mullah, Levite, Disciple, Saint, um . . . Votary, Avatar, Savior, Messiah . . . I can't think of any more right now."

"That _is_ a lot of words. Only two of them came out as Cardinal, though. They were . . . uh . . . Patriarch Mullah? Did you get that right?"

Jason nodded. "Yeah. So I'm guessing Cardinal Mazarin holds a high religious office, is effectively independent even if he supposedly answers to a religious superior or council, possesses vast political influence, but doesn't exhibit any overtly visible divine power or insight."

Louise slowly nodded. "You understood that from the words his title translated as?"

"Well, that and . . . there was a rather famous Cardinal a few hundred years ago who was, for all practical intents and purposes, the ruler of the country whose king he supposedly advised."

"Cardinal Mazarin is Princess Henrietta's regent."

Jason blinked. "Wait - you mean your friend is the _heir_?"

Louise shook her head. "She won't be crowned until the Regency Council approves or she gets married, but with the King dead, she's our monarch."

"Except Mazarin holds the real power. And he appointed this Motte fellow, so his first loyalty is to Mazarin for his position . . ."

"And his estate."

"His estate?"

Louise rolled her eyes. "You can't be a Count if you don't have your own lands."

"Hmmm . . . how common _is_ magical talent?" That hadn't yet come up in Madam Chevreuse's class.

"Um . . . maybe one in ten people could be at least a Dot, but not everyone can afford to get trained. Oh, and some other people end up being able to do just one or two things with magic."

"If you're not noble, how do you get trained?"

She shrugged. "If you're good enough, the Academy takes you as a student - but once you graduate you're considered a noble, even if you aren't landed. Otherwise, you'd have to hire your own teacher. Even some nobles do that rather than send their children to the Academy."

* * *

During dinner, Siesta had plenty of gossip about Motte. Since he was new to the landed nobility, he was in a hurry to find enough household staff and tenants to become a 'proper' lord. There had already been incidents that afternoon where some of his retainers had tried to . . . aggressively court the maids serving the Academy. (Which on one level wasn't much of a surprise - Osmond the Pervert had an eye for good-looking women and preferred to hire them when possible.)

Louise had more to share after dinner. Motte's reason for being there was that the item Fouquet had stolen - something called a Staff of Destruction - hadn't been recovered, and the Crown was officially upset with Headmaster Osmond. Osmond needed to convince Motte that security would not lapse again in the future.

"You mean," Jason noted cynically, "that Osmond needs to convince Motte to report that to the Crown, no matter what the truth may be."

"Headmaster Osmond _has_ been getting up at night to check." Louise pointed out.

"That may or may not matter. The question is, is Motte honest, or will he be looking for a bribe?" He shrugged. "It doesn't directly concern us, however, so we should focus on memorizing our codes."

* * *

Siesta was subdued the next day at breakfast, but refused to talk about it. Jason didn't find out why until lunch, when his meal was brought by another maid.

Apparently Motte had expressed an interest in the 'exotic-eyed beauty' and intended to take her with him. Headmaster Osmond wasn't in a position to refuse. Siesta was going to leave that evening, run back to her village, and try to hide.

"Will that work?" Jason asked Louise as he was setting up the targets that afternoon.

Louise shook her head. "Not if he has a way to track her. Even if her family has a building with the right wards, she wouldn't be able to make it there in time."

"Hmmm . . . is there anywhere else with wards that'll block tracking?"

Louise looked at him suspiciously. "Any noble's room at the Academy is warded for privacy. Why do you care?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't approve of rape. Around here I can't do anything about it most of the time, but I know Siesta and I'd rather do something than stand by and let it happen to a friend."

"Are you asking me to hide that m-maid up in my b-bedroom until Count Motte leaves?"

Jason smiled sadly at her storm-cloud face. "I know it's a lot to ask, mistress. Yes, I'm asking."

"W-where would she s-sleep? On your m-mattress?"

"If she's too dirty a commoner to join you in your bed, I'll sleep in one of the chairs and, yeah, she can use my mattress."

Louise scowled even deeper. "Make sure you bring up twice as many buckets tonight."

* * *

After that, it was a matter of letting Siesta know what was going on. Which would not be easy, since if anyone saw Jason talk to Siesta Louise's room would be an obvious place to search.

They ended up surprising her. Jason found a place where he could observe Siesta's dorm without being noticed. When he saw Siesta slip out after the sun went down, he sent a coded pulse to Louise, telling her which direction Siesta was headed. A few minutes later, Louise sent back a code indicating that she'd levitated them both up to her room. Jason then brought up the clean laundry that was his official reason to have gone down.

Siesta was looking rather nervous when Jason walked in.

"This was _your_ idea," Louise immediately declared. "_You_ explain it to her."

"Okay." He turned to Siesta. "First, just to get it out of the way - do you wish to enter Motte's service?"

She shook her head.

"Didn't think so. Louise says that Count Motte could catch you before you reached your village if he has a way to track you. Your plan wouldn't have worked."

"Oh."

"So that's where we come in. Tracking spells won't work in this room, so as long as you stay here until Motte leaves you've got a good chance of being safe."

Siesta looked from Jason to Louise and back again, blushing slightly. "We'll all be . . . sleeping together?"

Louise glared at Jason.

"No," he assured them both. "Siesta, you'll sleep on the bed with Louise. That thing on the floor is my mattress, it's where I sleep."

"Oh."

"Meals are going to be interesting, since we don't want anyone knowing we've got an extra person, but we should be able to sneak supplies up here."

"Um, I packed three day's worth of travel rations, so I'll be fine."

"Okay. Hopefully Motte'll be out of here by then. For now, it's late so we should probably wash up and get to sleep."

Washing up was straightforward, if awkward - Jason sat in a chair facing the wall while the two women scrubbed and did his best to avoid thinking about what was going on behind him. Judging by the occasional giggle when it was _his_ turn to wash, Siesta may not have been as disciplined.

_Although it's not like I'm a feast for the eyes. She's probably just giggling at the situation._

Jason lent Siesta his toothbrush, since he only had the two. Louise didn't look happy, but at least she provided steaming-hot water to rinse it off.

Nightwear was more of an issue. Louise didn't want Siesta sleeping naked on her bed, and Siesta's travel clothing was already a bit dirty, since she'd been wearing it all day while packing. Louise had a spare nightgown Siesta could wear, but . . .

Short, slender, and just barely beginning to fill out, Louise was a late bloomer. Siesta, on the other hand, was taller, wider, and . . . more generously proportioned. Louise's nightgown strained at her bosom, dipped in to clasp her waist, flared out again as it hugged her hips, and barely came down to her knees.

_She could give Kirche serious competition at a swimsuit contest._

"That'll do for tonight," Jason decided while Louise fumed. "Do you have bedclothes in your dorm?" Siesta nodded. "Maybe we can sneak in at some point tomorrow."

* * *

**A/N:**

Hitting a still target is one thing. Hitting a moving target, or when you yourself are moving unpredictably? Much harder.

Yeah, Motte was made up by the anime to show Siesta getting closer to Saito, since in the light novels she gets closer to him by feeding him when Louise won't. Easy to write, harder to show in an anime. I have my own reasons for including Motte. Plus, I never got why Siesta fell for Saito in the novels - the whiny little pervert is nothing like what she imagines him to be. Not at that point in the series, anyway.

Louise thinks that any noble's room in the Academy is warded. That may or may not be true. As a duke's daughter, Louise is very nearly a princess in her own right. Kirche's family is similarly prominent in Germania. Tabitha, well, we'll get to that. It might only be the rooms on the VIP student floors that are warded for privacy, for much the same reasons that the grounds of an embassy belong to the embassy's country, rather than the host country.

And, honestly, diplomatic immunity goes a long way towards explaining why Kirche can get away with what she does.


	12. Fugitive II

**Fugitive, Part II**

"Jason? Jason!" Jason's eyes flipped open. Why was Siesta - oh, right. He rolled off the mattress and stood up. At least the sun was up.

Siesta was awake and looking helpless. Louise was still asleep, but she'd apparently rolled over and glomped on to Siesta, face nestling between Siesta's breasts. "She won't let go!" Siesta whispered. "When I tried to pry her off she whimpered something and grabbed me even tighter!"

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "Hmmm . . . she has two older sisters, and she seems devoted to the oldest, Eléonore. Maybe she used to sleep with Eléonore before she came here?"

"Well, she's pulling on this nightgown and making it even tighter!"

"Ah. Just a second." Jason gave Louise his strongest possible mental shove. She blinked sleepily as she started to wake.

"Cattleya? When did you-" Louise's sleepy mumble cut off as her gaze sharpened. She flinched and let go of Siesta, who immediately got out of bed.

_Cattleya? Not Eléonore? Interesting. But we'd better not let Louise get started on a rant._

"We're all awake? Excellent. Time to get the day started."

* * *

Siesta had to be left behind when they went down for breakfast. She promised to clean Louise's bedroom that day, which made Jason a bit nervous.

"Okay, see those bags? Some of the stuff in them is very delicate. Don't try to clean anything in them, _definitely_ don't let them get wet, and don't let them bump into anything."

It was the best he could think of, since if she was going to scrub the floor she was almost certainly going to end up having to move his things.

Jason accompanied Louise into the dining hall - which he'd never actually seen the inside of before, so that was interesting. It was early enough that the Alviss were just finishing their nightly dancing, which raised all sorts of questions about how much of a hassle it was to make the little statues. Louise didn't know, so he resolved to ask Mr. Colbert later.

The other 2nd Form students seemed a little annoyed that he was there, but there were spare seats and they were a little mollified when the kitchen sent out his bowl of porridge.

For his part, Jason did his best to ignore the savory-smelling breakfast meats that the others were enjoying. "We need to go back to the old arrangement soon," he muttered to Louise, trying not to stare at the contents of her plate. She just smirked.

Motte's retainers were much more in evidence after they left Mr. Colbert's class. It didn't seem like a good idea to go train outside, so Jason escorted Louise to the student bath-house. Naturally, _he_ wasn't allowed to use it. Honesty? He missed showers more than he did a decent bath. He already had 10 pages in his notebook filled with sketches of water tanks and shower outlets. If Mr. Colbert proved interested he intended to have one built at some point.

After Louise vanished inside the bath-house he headed back up to her room. He'd been twitchy about what Siesta might manage to break, since despite his warning she lacked a 21st century background.

* * *

There wasn't anyone in the hallway that he could see, fortunately, so he could slip inside without worrying about anyone spotting Siesta. The potential downside didn't become apparent until he heard a short gasp and looked towards the sound.

Siesta stood next to the sink with one of the buckets, cloth in one hand . . . half-covered in soap and not a stitch of clothing on her.

Jason blinked. Then he very deliberately walked over to the table, took a chair, and sat facing the other way. After considering . . . things for a moment, he decided he'd have to say something. "Sorry for rushing in like that. Wasn't expecting . . ."

"No, it's fine!" Siesta protested. "It's your room, not mine, and you have a right to come in no matter what I'm . . ."

Awkward silence.

"Um, after I made Miss Vallière's bed, I moved your bags there so I could clean properly. I hope that was fine." The faint sound of cloth moving across skin resumed. Jason was _trying_ not to think about that too much, but-

_Shouldn't breasts her size sag a little more?_

_SHUT UP!_

_No, seriously. They can't possibly have plastic surgery around here._

_If she's young and hasn't had any children, they're probably at maximum natural firmness. Now stop _thinking_ about it._

"Jason?" _Oh, right. Need to respond._

"Y-yes, that was probably fine. I'll check them out. Uh. Soon."

A few minutes later . . . "I'm dressed now."

Which she was, to his mild disappointment. He stepped on that rather firmly as he moved to the bed.

"Um . . . I thought you spent all afternoon in class or practicing with Miss Vallière?" _She_ sounded nervous.

He shrugged. "With Motte here, Louise didn't want to be seen in the field alone with a man. She decided to soak in the bath-house. I, uh, came up to see how you were doing." He flushed at that last as he pulled out his phone.

She blushed as well. "I didn't have any clean clothing, and after I scrubbed everything I felt filthy, so I thought I'd clean up with the leftover water."

"That sounds sensible." The phone powered up, chirping and displaying the usual boast about his service provider. Siesta saw what he had and moved in closer.

"What is that?"

"It's a device for communicating with people who are far away. It's called a 'phone'."

"Did Miss Vallière give it to you?"

"No, this is an example of the craftwork of my homeland. Without any other phones around, I can't use it to talk to people, but it has other uses." He checked the power level. Yeah, he hadn't actually charged it since arriving in Japan, and it was less than half-full. He set it next to the window. Solar charging took longer than plugging it in, but that was the only option available at the moment.

"Other uses?"

"It can record images and display them. It can record sounds and reproduce them. It can play music. It has a small library of my favorite books." Which he hadn't read much in the last few years. No real time. "It has some simple games. It can do some other things, but everything else requires that it be able to contact devices that aren't available around here."

Siesta was staring at the phone, wide-eyed. "No one has magic like that! Did you get it from the elves? Is there a spirit bound to it?"

"It's not magic, and no, it doesn't have a spirit bound to it. It's something that Louise would call a 'clockwork mind', but that's not what it really is, either."

"What _is_ it, then?"

"Hard to explain. It's . . . do you know what a lodestone is?" She nodded. "A lodestone points north and south, and the reason is because it's been touched by lightning. The phone uses tiny lightning storms, too small for us to notice. Well, it's not really lightning, but it's close. Anyway, the way the lightning inside the phone . . . dances . . . controls what it does. Those little buttons on it tell it what dances it should be doing."

She looked skeptical. "You use lightning that's not really lightning to . . . talk to people and play music?"

He laughed. "Siesta, we use lightning that's not really lightning to do a _lot_ of things. _This_ use is a very recent development." He blinked. "Now that I think about it, I believe it was _your_ people who did a lot of the development that went into phones."

"_My_ people? What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "I could be mistaken, but I haven't seen anyone around here with your eyes. Or, for that matter, black hair. I assume you have a parent or grandparent from Japan."

She paled. "You know about Grandfather Takeo? You don't look anything like him!"

"Oh, no, I wouldn't. My nation is called America. We've been strong allies and trading partners with Japan for several decades." No need to bring up what the relationship with Japan was like _before_ that. "I was actually visiting your grandfather's country when Louise summoned me to be her familiar." He paused, then admitted, "When I first noticed you, I started to wonder how often people or things from Japan end up in Tristain."

"Are there really three moons in Japan?"

"No, just the one." Jason lifted an eyebrow. "Trying to trick me?"

She nodded. "Grandfather always insisted there was only supposed to be one moon." She paused. "You should come see his dragon temple someday."

"Perhaps I will."

"So what other wonders did you bring with you?"

"Not much. Clothing, a few books, writing material, bedding. Oh, and each bag has a hygiene, an emergency, and a medical kit. Plus an MRE." He pulled them out and laid them on the bed. "You know, I should show these to Mr. Colbert and see what we could duplicate with magic."

"Why? What do you have?"

"Not a whole lot in terms of quantity, but there's some definite variety here.

"Toothpaste, mouthwash, and dental floss would all be good to have widely available - I've seen the dental problems around here. The razors are vital, since as far as I can tell no one's invented the razor guard yet. Combs are nice - but the idea of plastic is probably even more valuable. Deodorant, soap, shampoo and hair conditioner - thanks Mom - you ladies are probably going to love that stuff.

"As for the emergency kits - candles, you already have those. Matches, those are handy. I need to remember to warn Mr. Colbert about phosphorus-"

"What?"

"Um - the coating at the tip bursts into flame if you rub it against a rough surface. Handy for starting a fire. They use a substance called phosphorus, and there are two different types of phosphorus. One is easy to make, but it'll kill whoever makes it over time. The other is harder to make, but safer. Anyway, the windup flashlights - I'm gonna miss those when they die. Two windup radios - I think I remember enough to figure out how to build simpler models. In the meantime, there are two and I'm sure they'll be handy for something. GPS units are going to be worthless, of course. Not much more than a couple of sprays of mace in these little bottles, so I'll either have to get more made or save them for deserving targets.

"As for the medical kits - ooooh, I should have broken these open a month ago. Sterile gauze, rubbing alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, betadine, bandaids, syringe, tweezers, scissors, q-tips . . . Dunno if we'll be able to duplicate the pills, but if we do they'll come in handy. That reminds me, I need to ask someone about cowpox and smallpox . . ."

Siesta looked down at the mess on Louise's bed. "Why did you have two of everything?"

"In case I lost one of my bags. Not that I thought Japan was dangerous," he hastened to assure her, "but it wasn't the only country I was visiting, and . . . my parents taught me to keep a kit around, just in case."

Seista's eyes widened. "Your family! Do they think you're dead?"

"By now?" Jason sighed. "Maybe. I don't feel as . . . sad about that as I should."

"Because you're a familiar?"

"Probably, but . . . I have two younger brothers. Twins. They needed my parents' attention more than I did, growing up. We ended up pretty distant after I left to continue my education. Between my scholarships and my job, I didn't need any money from them, and the Terrible Twosome were just starting to notice girls . . .

"We talked using our phones from time to time, and exchanged . . . letters, but even that dropped off. I was busy, and so were they. The last note I sent them was just letting them know where I was traveling to. They . . . may not think anything's wrong until I don't return home at the appointed time."

Siesta looked hopeful. "If they don't think anything's wrong yet . . . could you use your phone to talk to them?"

"Not from here. I'm not close enough to any of the devices that my phone would need to talk to in order to talk to my parents. Although . . . if I could find a way to see an image of Japan, and send my own image _to_ Japan . . ."

"Your image?"

"The phone doesn't talk to other devices with sound, it talks with something that's more like light. An image of me and an image of Japan . . . maybe the phone would be able to talk across the images. But . . . maybe not. If the images only sent the light that we humans can see, then the phone wouldn't be able to talk to the devices in Japan." Jason shrugged. "And I don't even know if there's a spell for sending images in the first place."

"Oh."

Siesta apparently didn't want to continue that line of discussion, because she moved on to his clothing, which was mostly rolled up for easy storage. "What kind of fabric is this? The weave is incredibly close."

"A lot of it's cotton. There's a silk tux that my parents gave me as a graduation present, but I'm not about to use that for daily stuff. Some of the rest is nylon - wait, do you use muscle-powered looms to make clothing?"

Siesta nodded.

"Oh . . . oh my . . ."

"What?"

"Well, first, you have to understand that clothing, for my people, is very cheap."

"Is that why you have so many clothes?"

"Cheaper than that. What's here is just a few of my clothes - enough to travel with. I have a lot more, and women . . . there are jokes about women with dozens of shoes and hundreds of outfits, and a lot of them are true."

"Dozens . . . _hundreds_?"

Jason nodded. "Remember those engines I told Mr. Colbert about? They aren't just for trains. We use them to do a _lot_ of things. We can use them to power looms, and set a lightning-clockwork mind to make sure the cloth is woven correctly. Half-a-day's wage for an unskilled, menial laborer is enough to buy, new, a simple shirt, or a dress, or a pair of pants."

Siesta rubbed the fabric of one of his t-shirts between her fingers. "I don't think I'd believe you, if these stitches weren't so tiny." She grimaced. "Most of my clothing is provided by the Academy. I only own my travelling clothes, and I won't get a chance to wash anything until Motte's gone."

Jason winced. His oh-so-clever mind flashed to the obvious solution, but . . . there was a sound biological reason why it was an act of close intimacy in America. Still . . . "If you're tired of wearing what you've got on, you could," he offered hesitantly, "wear some of my clothing for the next few days."

Siesta looked at him with a small smile. "You don't mind?"

"Not really. Although," he started searching through the rolled-up pants, "you're not going to be able to wear my pants - they'll slide right off." She may have had hips, but she was still rather small compared to him. _Hell, with the inches I've lost off my waist _I_ need my belt to hold most of these up these days._ Finding what he was looking for, he held it up for viewing. "My swimsuit is the only pair of pants I have with a drawstring for tightening."

"'Swimsuit'? You have clothing for _swimming_?"

"My people consider it poor manners to swim naked. _Especially_ in mixed company. So, yeah, we ended up designing special clothing for swimming. Um . . . I'm afraid these probably won't go down much past your knees." Which would be better than nothing, since his shirt by itself probably wouldn't go down much past mid-thigh.

She accepted the clothing with a giggle - probably for the notion of wearing short pants - and went into the washroom to change. He made sure his back was turned.

"Um, Jason?"

"Yes?"

"This . . . 'drawstring' won't stay put. Both ends keep going back."

Ah. That would be a problem. "Alright. Do you have the shirt on?"

"Uh-huh."

No doubt about it, she registered as cute in his over-sized shirt and swimsuit trunks. And sort-of "his". _We'll just ignore that, alright?_ "Okay, there's a way to tie a knot so that it'll stay put but come apart when you need it to. I'm guessing you don't know it. Um . . . lift up the front of the shirt to . . . a bit above above your belly-button."

She flushed, but did as she was told. Trying not to blush himself as he knelt down, he pulled the slowly-slipping swimsuit trunks up until the top was at the narrow part of her waist. Then he pulled the drawstrings tight and-

The door opened. Siesta squeaked.

. . . .

_The worst part, I suppose, is that we sort of _have_ to hope that it's Louise that just showed up._

The door closed. He slowly turned his head toward the approaching footsteps. Yep, it was Louise. He sent the code that meant 'I have a good reason to be doing this, play along and I'll explain when I can'.

Her response was a series of heavy slams against his own mind. He quickly tied the drawstring tight and stood up and Siesta let the shirt fall down.

"Did you have a good soak?" he asked mildly.

She glared and sent the 'What the hell is going on?' code, again slamming as heavily as she could.

"After cleaning the room, Siesta's only outfit was dirty enough that she didn't love the idea of wearing it. I'm letting her borrow some of mine until she can leave."

"So you needed to put them on y-yourself? Putting your h-hands all over h-her . . ."

"No, I needed to tie the trunks off at her waist to make sure they didn't fall off." Louise blinked at the idea. Jason smiled wryly. "You may have noticed that clothing my size is a bit large for her."

Louise looked again. The shirt was tent-like on Siesta, and the folds _almost_ concealed the size of her breasts. Now that she'd stopped holding the end of the shirt up, it fell halfway to her knees, and the baggy trunks weren't exactly showing off her thighs.

"You shouldn't be sharing your clothing so easily," she finally muttered in resignation.

Unfortunately, Siesta apparently had a well-developed woman's intuition. "Jason! You haven't let Miss Vallière wear any of your clothing yet?"

_This has the potential to go very bad,_ he thought as Siesta helped Louise exchange her dress for one of his shirts. In _Louise's_ case it went all the way down to her knees and a bit beyond. _They don't use that much soap on servants' clothing. If Louise subconsciously accepts me as a worthwhile male . . ._

Because while people rely on sight and sound as primary senses, smell is linked to quite a few instincts. If his shirt carried any traces of his body-odor, and if Louise already liked him at least a little bit . . .

_Which she does. We think. Dammit, she's still too young!_

_Wait. Siesta will probably function as a chaperone, and once she's back to her quarters Louise won't feel forced to wear my clothing to prove how close we are as mistress and familiar._

_Okay. We can handle this. We can still avoid the special hell. Everything's going to be fine._

_But tonight I'm going to teach Siesta how to tie that damn knot herself._

* * *

**A/N:**

The invention of water-powered looms was the start of the industrial revolution. In addition, it was the cause of incredible misery, because it was profitable to oppress unskilled factory workers.

Since computers eventually replace unskilled labor, Jason may decide to hold off on pushing industry until he and Mr. Colbert can reinvent computers to at least the level of punch card machines. Although, since Mr. Colbert is already experimenting with engines, there may not be much time to develop computers first.

Note that there are five different machines that need to be working to largely automate the clothing industry. You need sewing machines, powered looms, spinning jennies, carding machines, and harvesters. If any of them have to be done by hand – well, by the late 1700s we had everything but cotton harvesters. Guess what the plantations of the Southern US did to step up and meet demand?

Oh, and Jason would have been in a _lot_ more trouble if he'd been dressing Siesta up in something skin-tight.


	13. Fugitive III

**Fugitive, Part III**

Siesta's travel food was running out, so the next day Jason got a large lunch from the kitchen, and the three of them ate together in Louise's room.

That afternoon, after an hour or so with Mr. Colbert, Louise insisted on accompanying Jason up to her room to keep Siesta company. To his mild dismay she immediately changed into one of his shirts again.

Siesta had been looking through Jason's tiny stash of physical books. She held up his English/Japanese dictionary. "Grandfather Takeo wrote with some of these, but I don't recognize a lot of them."

"That's because my language is different, and we use a different writing system. That book is to help translate between your grandfather's language and my own."

"Does that mean you don't know how to read _our_ language?"

Louise scowled. "The translation power doesn't work on books, so no, he doesn't."

"We should teach him, then! It'd help him be a better familiar, right?"

"I guess we don't have anything better to do."

A funny thing happened as the two girls instructed Jason. Each letter had a name and a sound, and he dutifully memorized them, but when it came time to turn the letters into words . . .

"That's the fastest I've ever seen someone learn how to read!" Siesta exclaimed.

Jason shook his head in amazement. "That wasn't learning. I think you two taught me enough that the translation power had what it needed to kick in and handle your alphabet."

"Still, that's amazing."

Louise nodded. "Now you can help me take notes in class."

Louise was a little curious how it was that _Siesta_ knew how to read and write, and that soon turned into a whispered, giggling conversation that Jason was just as happy to ignore. Instead, he read a basic primer on spell theory, glad that he finally had a chance to fill in some of the holes in his understanding of magic.

Perhaps he shouldn't have ignored the girls . . .

* * *

That night (and, dammit, Louise had decided to wear his shirt as a nightgown after all), a few minutes after they turned the light off Louise snapped it back on. Jason blinked and raised a hand to shade his eyes while they readjusted. "Is something wrong, Louise?"

"I can't sleep," she grumped.

"I'm sorry. Um . . . is there anything I can do?"

"Read me a story?"

"A story?" He sat up. She already had a book in her hands . . . and she was trying not to laugh.

_Uh-oh. What am I getting set up for?_

Not seeing a gracious way out, he stood up and walked over to the bed. Louise pulled back the quilt she and Siesta were under and patted the spot next to her. He sat down, a bit nervous.

"Closer!"

When he was all the way on the bed, Louise tucked the quilt back in and rolled over, draping an arm over his chest. Siesta likewise moved in, eyes bright, practically sandwiching Louise between the two of them.

Even with this forewarning, the book exceeded his worst fears.

* * *

_I was right_, he thought as he blushed harder than he had in years, while the girls howled in laughter. _They _did_ invent the trashy romance novel already._

The first bit - the setup - had been almost interesting. Mostly because Tristain's writing style had a lot of expressions and sayings, and he was perceiving the meaning rather than the literal translation. Louise and Siesta had a fair bit of fun correcting him whenever that happened. The interesting part was that once an expression was explained, the translation switched to the expression.

Then the, er, _meat_ of the story started, and he suddenly realized that the girls must have figured out about that particular translation limitation back in the afternoon. What was written as metaphor - albeit _salacious_ metaphor - was translated to him as blunt, graphic, and above all else, explicit.

He stumbled to a halt more than once, only to keep going at their mirthful urgings, before he realized that they'd _deliberately_ stopped correcting his translation perception issues.

_Medieval parallels. Women are . . . alarmingly frank with each other, but this . . . this Tab A Slot B IKEA erotica is probably the dirtiest that _any_ man has _ever_ spoken to _either_ of them._

"I'm not sure this is actually going to help you _sleep_," he finally said as their latest bout of mirth calmed. "I should get back to bed."

"No!" they both protested, giggling. Louise tightened her arm around him. More alarmingly, Siesta scooted closer another inch, reached across underneath the covers, and grabbed him as well.

_Okay, a few inches south and we would have been in _serious_ trouble._

"It's almost over, and after you're done we'll be good!" Siesta assured him. Louise nodded vigorously.

He rolled his eyes, but continued.

Fortunately, the book _was_ short. Handwritten - _Given the givens, how does a maid afford trashy handwritten novels, anyway?_ - and not many pages, it would barely qualify as a short story by his own standards. Being so short, it had to be direct. Noble hires maid, maid meets noble's son, maid ends up in bed with noble and noble's son simultaneously, using ridiculous coincidences - each one more contrived than the last, Shakespeare and Chaucer would have been proud - to prevent the men from noticing each other. It ended with a short scene the next day, with the noble's wife - old and ugly, naturally - innocently congratulating the maid on her dedication to serving the noble's family.

"And they all lived pervertedly ever after," Jason concluded and set the book down. Maybe now his blush - among other things - would have a chance to subside. "You're going to be able to sleep now, right Louise?"

"Mm-hmm . . ."

"So . . ." she still hadn't lifted the arm holding him in place. "Can I go back to _my_ bed, now?"

"Mmm-mmm." She reached up with her other arm and pulled _his_ arm out to where she could nestle her face against his shoulder. For some reason she didn't seem to want to meet his eyes. Siesta pulled his arm out the rest of the way and shifted to rest her head on it as well.

_I am _so_ going to the special hell_, he thought as Louise snapped her fingers and turned the lamp off.

* * *

Someone was on top of him. He opened his eyes.

Apparently, Siesta had pretty much closed the distance between him during the night. _She_ was the one with her head nestled against his shoulder, now, and she was pretty much sleeping on his left arm. Louise had been displaced to lie directly on him. His right arm, fortunately, was just resting on her back and not . . . tangled up in anything.

He tried moving his left arm, to maybe wake Siesta up. She murmured something and shifted, but didn't wake. He reached over with his right hand and flicked her lightly on the nose. She blinked, yawned, and slowly opened her eyes.

Taking in the full situation, her eyes widened, but she didn't move back at all. Instead she just smiled at Jason.

"I need you to move back about a foot," he whispered. Siesta pouted for a moment, but did as he asked. He turned on his side to create an incline, and gently pried Louise loose to roll off onto the bed. As she separated from him, she grumbled in her sleep and reached out, grabbing onto Siesta. A few moments later Louise's head was nestled between Siesta's breasts again, and Jason made good his escape from the bed. The smell that escaped from the quilt with him alerted him to the near-certainty that at least one of the girls had had _very_ good dreams.

_At least _I_ didn't have a wet dream. That would have just been . . . awkward. _More_ awkward._

"That was a very clever prank, last night," he said quietly. "Please don't do it again."

Siesta made a face, but nodded. "How long will it take Louise to wake up?"

He shrugged. "She's a heavy sleeper. If she's not awake by the time I finish washing up, I'll get her up." Because with Louise asleep and holding on to Siesta, neither girl would be able to do anything naughty while he was washing.

He hoped.

_Count Motte had better leave soon. I do _not_ need these two encouraging each other._

* * *

Fortunately, Motte _did_ leave with his retainers that day, Louise was able to resume outdoor practice, and Siesta was free to return to her dorm.

That evening, as he brought water up to Louise's room, every female member of the Academy staff that he saw _grinned_ at him.

_Oh, _hell_. Siesta, what did you tell them?_

Fortunately, now that Louise wasn't wearing his clothing, she seemed embarrassed by the whole episode and didn't mention it. In fact, she had a set of shorts sewn up to wear under her skirt while she was riding on Jason's shoulders for target practice. Riding on his shoulders, however, _did_ leave her a little flushed. He chose not to comment.

Mr. Colbert was _fascinated_ by the collection of stuff Jason showed him, and immediately called in a pair of mages Jason hadn't yet met. They didn't introduce themselves to him, either, apparently not really caring about the oddly-dressed commoner. However, he was able to deduce that they were 3rd Form instructors, advanced Triangles of Earth and Water respectively (apparently Square-level was damned rare, or at least too much in demand for the Academy to afford), and experts in alchemical duplication.

Some of it they could already do. The cleansing effects of alcohol were already well known, for example, and they already had 'tree-bark' paper(much cruder than the paper in his notebooks, apparently, but cheaper than 'silk' paper). Some of it had them wondering why no one had ever come up with the idea before, such as the ballpoint pen that Jason had included. The plastic and fabric samples had them confused but fascinated.

The Water alchemist was able to directly duplicate most of the liquid samples. He was quickly at work trying to figure out in his schedule when he could find time to develop formal spells to directly create said samples instead of just duplicating them. Likewise, the Earth alchemist already had half-a-dozen ideas for what she could do with the 21st century stainless steel that some of his donated trinkets consisted of. Likewise the aluminum.

Mr. Colbert waited until they'd left to approach Jason. "Your homeland seems to be a place of endless marvels," he noted dryly.

Jason shrugged. "We don't have magic, so we had to figure out other things."

"Yes, I see. Speaking of magic, I saw your eyes light up when my colleagues compared your 'betadine' to a healing potion. Do you have experience with those?"

Jason grinned. "No, but . . . you have to get someone to drink a potion for it to work, right? I'm thinking that a potion delivered through a syringe should work just as well, and not depend on the subject being able to swallow."

Mr. Colbert blinked. "That seems . . . likely."

"Good. Um . . ."

"Yes?"

"Louise's family seems to be rich, so I'm not in need of a reward or anything, but . . . do you think you could get me some of those healing potions?"

"You see a need for them?"

"Not precisely. I just want to upgrade my remaining medical kit."

"Why would you . . ." The instructor blinked. "I suppose that if you went to the trouble of having a 'medical kit' in the first place, just in case, it shouldn't surprise me that you want it to be as good as possible."

"Exactly."

"I'll get you what I can."

* * *

**A/N:**

In canon, Tabitha teaches Saito how to read several months later, by much the same process. Grandfather Takeo probably had to learn the local language the hard way, poor guy.

Remember Miss Longueville's enchanted wax tablet? If low-quality paper is cheap enough, someone could do moderate-sized printing runs without too much expense.

They'd still be expensive compared to a paperback today, but it's canon that trashy novels are passed around the dorms where the maids sleep. Presumably they pool their spare wages to purchase new volumes as needed. Also, the massive novels of today are a recent evolution. The story in question was probably no more than a few thousand words in length. Novels in the mid-20th century were often around 50K words per volume. Today 150K-200K is more normal.


	14. Fugitive IV

**Fugitive, Part IV**

There were a number of interesting things about Princess Henrietta's arrival.

The princess herself was a beauty. That implied minimal royal inbreeding, which made Jason wonder for a moment just how long it had been since the Princess's ancestors had assumed the throne. That didn't distract him for long, however.

Her carriage was pulled by unicorns. Since he didn't know what parameters applied to unicorns in this world, their own not-inconsiderable beauty hadn't even distracted him for as long as the question of royal inbreeding.

Some of her honor guard were mounted on griffons. That, admittedly, was more interesting than the unicorns. But not by much.

It was . . . not so much _interesting_ as _annoying_ that Louise had ordered Jason to stay in her room rather than accompany her to the Princess's arrival. Still, his phone's camera had a zoom feature and high-def resolution, so he wasn't missing out on the spectacle.

No, what was truly _interesting_ was that Louise seemed to divide her attention between watching the carriage as it approached and watching one of the bodyguards mounted on a griffon. Jason had a couple of good clips of the man in question. Tall, lean, and handsome. He even had a well-trimmed mustache and beard, which made him look rugged and badass. Jason hated him already.

As the carriage stopped, Jason left off the scrutiny of his possible rival to focus on the Princess's emergence. Cardinal Mazarin exited first, and held out a hand to help the Princess step down. Jason wondered if anyone else had caught the faint tightening of Mazarin's lips as the students and teachers cheered their sovereign.

* * *

That night Louise couldn't sit still. Jason watched with amusement as she paced, sat down, hugged her pillow, stood up, muttered to herself, and generally panicked in slow motion.

_On the other hand, I _should_ offer some comfort and support._

He walked over and grabbed her in a bear-hug. These days, at least, she was able to relax into it, although she was still trembling. "Take a deep breath," he ordered.

She was finally starting to calm down when someone knocked on the door. A pattern - two long and three short - and Louise was trembling again by the end of it.

Nonetheless she was able to make it to the door and open it, allowing a figure shrouded entirely in a black veil to slip inside. The figure pulled out a wand and muttered the words that Jason now recognized as a more advanced version of the basic Silence spell. This version would prevent anyone outside from hearing anything that went on in the room.

"Louise, you didn't tell me that _you_ were taking in a refugee next," Jason drawled in some amusement. Louise whirled to him, horrified shock on her face, and he gave the shrouded figure a lazy salute. "Good evening, your Highness."

Louise immediately went down on her knees as Henrietta unveiled herself. "F-forgive his impertinence, your Highness! I promise I will b-beat him soundly for this!"

"You and what army?"

The Princess's lips twitched. "I could lend her one," she pointed out.

"True - oh, do get _up_, Louise. Your friend wants _hugging_, not groveling."

Louise stayed on her knees, however, until Henrietta took her hands and lifted her up. _Then_ Louise willingly embraced her childhood friend.

"He has the oddest turn of phrase. Where did you find your - what is he, anyway? A jester?"

"Um . . ."

"Jester, adviser, shoulder to cry on . . ." Jason was suddenly serious. "I'm whatever she needs that I can do. I'm her familiar."

Henrietta's eyes went wide. She pulled back a bit and looked Louise in the eye. "Louise! He's not . . . did you hire some foreign commoner to _pretend_-?"

"No, I-"

"'Louise! He's not . . . did you hire some foreign commoner to _pretend_-?'" Jason stopped the video playback as Henrietta stared at his phone. "I really am her familiar, Highness. I'm . . . unique, I understand, but I did come with a few interesting toys to help out."

"What _is_ that?"

"It's a phone. A device for communication over long distances, although since no one _else_ around here has a phone it's useless for that. It can do other things, though, like take pictures and record voices."

"D-did you steal it from the elves?"

_Okay, tomorrow I'm going to find a book about the elves and figure out what their deal is._ "No. It's the craftwork of my own country. And, no, it's not possible to duplicate it, even with alchemy."

Henrietta looked faintly disappointed. "I guess you won't surrender it to your sovereign?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "One, the instructions for it are written in a language and script that only I know how to speak and read. Two, you _aren't_ my sovereign. My loyalty is to Louise alone."

Louise looked shocked again, but Henrietta smiled slightly. "If you truly are a familiar, that's right." She looked back to Louise. "So what's it like using a man as your eyes and ears?"

Louise flushed. "I - I don't k-know-"

"She can't. We think it's because I already have a self-aware mind, so there's not room for her to set it aside and control me directly."

Henrietta looked _really_ disappointed now. "All that opportunity for adventure and you can't do anything?"

_Adventure? What the hell is she thinking about Louise doing with my body?_

"They would know it was me, Henrietta. He's too big to hide himself."

"Um . . . 'they'? Who are we talking about?"

"Whoever Louise played her pranks on, of course!" Henrietta responded brightly. "Whenever we got caught as children we would always dream about the mischief Louise would be able to do once she had a familiar."

"'Caught'? Louise, did you get Henrietta in trouble when you were children?"

"No!" Louise scowled. "She got _me_ in trouble!"

Henrietta laughed. "So many times, too. Her nannies quickly learned what to look out for - sneaking away to play a prank got to be hard work!"

She leaned over to whisper something in Louise's ear. Whatever childhood secret she recalled set Louise's lips twitching, and after a few whispered exchanges the two teenagers were clutching each other for support, laughing so hard tears were coming out of their eyes.

"I'm getting married," the princess quietly announced after she and Louise had calmed back down. This sobered Louise up immediately. "His Imperial Highness, Germania's heir."

Louise winced. "I'm sorry, Henrietta."

"It can't be helped. I've resigned myself to it already."

"How long?"

"His Imperial Majesty wants it done within the year. He probably wants to secure his line as soon as possible."

"And Tristain?"

Henrietta looked sad. "They want to break us up into Imperial Provinces. I don't think I can say no forever."

"My father is not going to be happy about this."

"No, I don't imagine he will be. Please send him a warning - I'm sure the Zerbst family head is already planning to crush La Vallière at the Imperial Court."

Louise nodded firmly.

Henrietta then looked Jason directly in the eyes. A corner of his mind noted that she had the most amazing blue eyes - the color that the ocean only had if you got far enough out to sea. "Please take care of my friend, Mr. Familiar." She turned back to Louise. "I can't stay much longer, or else Mazarin will miss me. So - did it work?"

Louise nodded, reluctantly. "I can get basic spells to work now. But as a human, Jason doesn't have an element, so I still can't do anything advanced."

Henrietta patted her on the back, sympathetically. "If you can do magic, you have an element. You'll figure it out eventually. I have to be going now - I'll see you tomorrow at the judging."

After she left, Jason turned to Louise. "Judging?"

Louise nodded. "All the new familiars will be presented to her Highness tomorrow for Brimir's Day. Henrietta will pick the most impressive."

"Flame or Sylphid, then."

"Probably. Do . . . you have an idea for what you should do on stage?"

Jason blinked. "S-stage?"

"When you're presented. What are you going to do? I haven't had the time to train you for it, so you should think of something good on your own."

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. "I hate getting on stage. Maybe I should just bow or something?"

"Can't you think of anything better than that?"

* * *

The next morning he was still certain, no he couldn't. Oh, he could do something fancy with his phone, but that would almost certainly result in _someone_ taking it from him. Besides, the screen was tiny, and it didn't have enough volume to reach a decent crowd.

Then, at breakfast, it struck him.

_No. Oh _no_. I _can't_ do _that!

But he couldn't think of anything better, so he loaded _it_ up on his phone to refresh his memory.

* * *

He was breathing _way_ too fast as the presentations started.

"Are you okay? Did you think of something?" Louise demanded.

He nodded, shaky. _I hate stagefright I hate stagefright I hate stagefright . . ._

Finally it was his turn. Louise led him out, told everyone his name, and then marched to the side of the stage.

He stared at the crowd for one panic-stricken moment.

"Hi everyone. Um . . . some of you already know this, but I'm from far away. So I'm going to perform an excerpt from a play that is fairly popular in my home country. The . . . part that I will be performing is a commoner in a small farming village as he enters the barn in the morning to care for his animals."

Jason took a deep breath.

_Do we have the nerve to do the dance?_

. . . .

_Barely, but yes. Unfortunately, we still have enough belly for it._

He lifted his eyes to the heavens and began slowly walking around the stage, miming spreading hay with an imaginary pitchfork.

"Oh Lord, you've made many many poor people. I realize, of course, that it's no shame to be poor, but it's no great honor, either. And what would have been so terrible, if I'd had, a small fortune?

"If I were a rich man . . ."

* * *

". . .

"Lord who made the lion and the lamb,

"You decreed I should be what I am.

"Would it spoil some vast eternal plan?

"IF . . . I were a weal. . .thy MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

Ever since the part where he'd done the first belly-jiggling strut across the stage, Louise had been bent over, laughing her pretty little head off. In this she was joined by many of the audience, including all of the staff who'd been able to shirk their duties and attend. Cardinal Mazarin wasn't present - apparently everyone in Henrietta's entourage had important things to do that kept them away - but Jason thought even he might have been chuckling in amusement at Jason's antics. For herself, Henrietta was doing her best to keep a straight face, but it was a losing battle.

Jason made a final bow, thanked his audience for their patience, and made his escape, pulling Louise along behind him.

"_Th-that_ was your idea?" she finally got out between peals of laughter.

"It was either that or the Numa Numa dance. Or we could have done Carameldansen, but I don't think you'd have been willing to join in."

"What?"

"Ah - the Numa Numa dance is a silly dance for chubby guys to do. It's to a song that is called 'Love Under the Linden Trees', but since the song isn't in my native language, I don't know that it would translate properly."

"And Carameldansen?"

"Um - hell, I've got a speedycake remix on this phone. Hang on a sec."

Louise stared, open-mouthed, at the hip-swaying, bunny-eared-flopping antics of Zelda and Adult!Midna as the artificially sped-up Norwegian - or maybe Swedish? - singers chirped their way through the cloying silliness.

"Y-you thought I-I-"

"I thought there was no way in _hell_ you'd be willing to do that in front of Henrietta, even though I _could_ supply a translation of the lyrics to rehearse with."

"Oh. What about the 'Numa Numa' dance?"

Jason winced. "I'll show it to you, if you want. Tonight, in your room, where no one else can _possibly_ see."

As it happened, Henrietta awarded the prize to Tabitha for her wind-dragon, Sylphid. Which was what most everyone had been expecting, really, that either Sylphid or Flame would win. The only surprised people were a few like Guiche, who were so taken with their own familiars that they expected _everyone_ to share their own skewed judgment.

* * *

Louise had just reminded Jason of his promise that evening when Henrietta knocked again.

"Saved by the princess, I suppose."

Louise smirked as she let her friend inside. "No, you're not."

Henrietta took one look at Jason and started snickering. "W-wha - where did - you really _are_ a jester, aren't you!"

He shrugged, embarrassed - but both of the rather pretty girls present had enjoyed his performance, so it was a happy embarrassment. "My people start formally educating their children from the age of 3, and I was one of the ones who did pretty well. I've had almost twenty years of schooling, and we teach our children the basics of a _lot_ of different things. Yeah, I can be a jester for a little while if I need to.

"Still, a lot of what I know isn't of any use around here - the history of my nation isn't particularly important to Tristain, and most of the tools that I've been trained to use simply don't exist."

"He's going to do another dance for us right now!" Louise announced.

Jason scowled. "I _said_ no one else could see it."

"Quit whining and dance, Jason."

"Dammit."

The girls were clutching each other, howling in laughter as he came to the end of the song.

"I'm glad you're both happy, but-"

"Shush, Mr. Familiar." Henrietta wiped her eyes and sobered up again. "Louise, we have to leave tonight, so I can't stay, but . . . you'll have a standing invitation to the Imperial Court once I'm married. Please make use of it."

Louise nodded. "If there's anything I can ever do for you - I may not even be a real Dot yet, but I do have one spell that's almost Triangle."

"Oh? That's wonderful! What is it?"

"I can cause an explosion - it's pretty big if I want it to be. I've been practicing my speed and aim, too."

Henrietta winced. "I'm not sure I want you fighting for me, Louise."

"Good." The two girls turned simultaneously at Jason's interruption. "What? She's already tried to throw herself into danger to prove that she's a worthy Vallière."

"Louise! You didn't!"

"No, I didn't. _He_ wouldn't let me, and that Zerbst witch went instead."

"Oh." Henrietta gave Louise a final embrace, then turned to go. "Mr. Familiar, please continue to take good care of Louise."

He ignored Louise's fuming at the implied request to not let Louise risk her neck with stupid heroics. "Always, Highness."

* * *

**A/N:**

Hi Wardes! Wardes, as we all know, is a man of unshakable loyalty, a fierce protector but otherwise a gentle soul. He's a few years older than Jason, and several years back he helped Louise out of a pretty bleak episode of depression. Unfortunately for everyone involved, Fouquet went un-captured and thus Wardes, an epic hero in the making, was deprived of the vital information that Fouquet was a source of in canon.

Tristain, despite the various attached dukedoms, is pretty small compared to Germania. Henrietta marrying His Imperial Highness is basically annexing Tristain into Germania.

The 'belly-jiggling strut' is from one of the movie productions of Fiddler on a Roof. Youtube "If I were a rich man" and it should still be one of front page selections. If you don't know about the Numa Numa dance or Carameldansen you've been spared from a couple of silly internet fads.


	15. Rumors of War I

**Rumors of War, Part I**

A week later, an owl flew into Louise's room one evening. It carried a roll of what Jason now recognized as silk paper. Louise recited a short spell and the owl allowed her to take the letter from it.

"She _did_ believe me!" Louise cheered as she unfolded the letter.

"I'm sorry?"

"An owl won't let you have your letter if you can't cast the spell that tells it who you are. Her Highness hasn't been able to send me private letters for over a year, but now she can!"

"Louise. She's your friend. At least call her Henrietta when we're alone."

Louise shook her head. "I have to remember to be respectful. His Imperial Majesty may get offended if I'm too informal in public."

Jason rolled his eyes. "I'm liking Germania less and less. _Why_ is Henrietta marrying the old goat's son, anyway?"

Louise flinched at hearing the Emperor of Germania referred to as an 'old goat'. "It's because of Reconquista." She skimmed through the letter. "So is this letter."

"'Reconquista'? Did religious infidels conquer part of Halkeginia or something?"

"What? No, they want to take back the holy land from the elves."

_Elves again. Dammit, I keep forgetting to look them up. And why didn't that translate as 'Crusade'?_ "What does that have to do with Tristain?"

"They say they have to unite all of Halkeginia, but none of the Blessed Realms support them. They've been stirring up rebellion in Albion, preparing to overthrow the king and seize the White Land of Wind. When they succeed, Tristain will be next."

"Why, is Tristain one of these 'Blessed Realms'?"

Louise nodded. "Tristain has Brimir's Relics of Water. If Reconquista has the relics of Wind and Water . . . Gallia and Germania don't trust each other. They'll both invade Tristain first, to prevent Reconquista from taking us."

"So . . . Henrietta essentially took the initiative to decide which country she'd rather surrender to?"

Louise nodded again. "Her Highness says Reconquista activity in Albion slowed down a few weeks ago. Cardinal Mazarin believes that they may have moved some of their agents into Tristain. If the nobility become convinced that Henrietta sold them to Germania for nothing . . ."

Jason whistled. "Yeah, that could be a problem. Henrietta hasn't had a chance to prove herself as a ruler yet."

"She's asking me if I can find out who needs to be watched."

"Here at the Academy?"

"No, she wants me to travel to Tristania and disguise myself so I can hear what the people really think."

"Um . . ." It wouldn't help to point out that Louise had a hard time letting go of her aristocratic manner. "You have classes."

Louise grimaced. "Mr. Colbert doesn't see any point in giving me the usual tests before the summer break, so it wouldn't hurt _my_ education to leave. I'll just tell him that I'm visiting my family early so that I can spend the summer studying."

_Shit. We'll have to figure out how to cover for her._

_On the other hand, Henrietta grew up with her. Maybe she knows that Louise has hidden depths in this area._

* * *

"You seem worried," Mr. Colbert noted that afternoon, having pulled Jason aside to talk privately. "Is there a problem with Louise that I need to know about?"

Jason winced. "Not so much. I just found out that the lack of . . . rumors of war at the Academy don't reflect the rest of Halkeginia."

Mr. Colbert nodded sadly. "The nations have been at peace for most of a generation. Now young fools who have never known hardship think they can disregard the lessons of the past."

"You keep up on things."

"I have friends here and there. We trade letters now and then."

"So . . . what are the magical defenses against mundane threats?"

"If you must fight, the best defense is to defeat your opponent first."

"What about a spell to . . . block sword swings or arrows?"

Mr. Colbert shook his head. "Those spells quickly fade. The impetus of each blow must be halted, which saps the shield."

"So survival on the battlefield for a mage-"

"It depends on the mage's element, but calling up something to fight for you is very common."

"Ah. Like the fire snake."

Mr. Colbert nodded sadly in confirmation.

"In that case . . . there is a weapon of my country that I think we could develop that would help me protect Louise if she were to be attacked."

"Oh?"

"There is a compound that can be developed by mixing sulfur, charcoal, and-"

"-And saltpeter? We know about gunpowder, Jason."

"You do?"

"We mostly use it on ships, since the entire ship can be enchanted against Fire magic."

"Um - I thought you could only block specific spells?"

"No, you can block an entire element of magic. It means being unable to use the beneficial aspects as well, see? And it helps that the entire ship is warded. The equivalent would be inscribing tattoos all over your body."

"Oh. And ships are warded against Fire because they carry cannons?"

"No, they are warded against Fire because the pitch that keeps the boards water-tight makes them very flammable. The fact that they already enjoy such magical protection simply means that you _also_ do not have to worry about an enemy wizard setting fire to your gunpowder."

"So firearms don't get used on land."

"They do, but the defense against magical Fire must be laid in as the weapon is crafted. Guns meant for shipboard use are much less expensive to craft."

"I see. Okay, moving on, there's a trick where you wet the gunpowder while you're making it-"

"Which causes it to explode better after it dries. Jason, we've known about gunpowder for a long time. Unless it was part of your focus as a scholar, your general studies may not have taught you enough to improve on our craft."

Jason bit back a curse. The natives weren't supposed to already know how to do what he talked about - what the hell kind of fantasy/science-fiction adventure was this, anyway? Still . . .

"Um, do you know about smokeless gunpowder?"

"'Smokeless'? No. Even the best gunpowder leaves plenty of blackening." Mr. Colbert looked intrigued. "How do you make it?"

Jason winced. "I don't know for sure. It's . . . look, making gunpowder is a hobby for some of my people, because if you're careful it's fairly safe to make. Smokeless powder, not so much. I know that in at least one of the stages of making it, the stuff is incredibly volatile. Minimum, you'd want to take the same precautions as you would with Louise trying out a new spell.

"Still, it's more powerful than sulfur gunpowder, so it may be worth developing. If you want to try . . . I _think_ the initial materials for making it start with combining nitric acid and either wool or cotton."

Mr. Colbert grimaced. "I'm not sure that's enough to go on right now. Maybe if I had more time in the day."

"Yeah, I get that. So, do you use muzzle-loaders or breach-loaders, for your firearms?"

"I . . . do not know what you mean. All of our guns, from pistol to cannon, work the same way. You pour the powder down the barrel, then ram the ball behind it. When you need to fire, you touch the fuse to the powder to light it off. Although - land weapons have a sparker on a steel spring. It makes them easier to aim, and the added expense isn't much compared to how much they cost already."

"Hmm . . . okay, I do have some ideas for improving that. Um . . . what materials are guns made from?"

Mr. Colbert looked thoughtful. "It . . . it depends. Cannon is made from bronze, preferably, but may be made from iron if there is not enough bronze available. Ship muskets are made from iron. Land guns are usually made from steel, since-"

"Since they're already more expensive to make, got it. Okay. Iron _sucks_ for guns, obviously. It's too brittle. Bronze is fine but not as common as iron. And steel is expensive to make."

Mr. Colbert nodded. "Ash-steel, made by commoners, is barely better than iron. An Earth mage of Line or better can make good steel if the ore is good, but any mage must be well-compensated."

"Yeah. Hey, do you guys have watermark steel?"

Mr. Colbert lifted an eyebrow. "Yes. The ore for it is very rare, and only an Earth who is a master steelsmith is trusted to forge it. The best enchanters only work with weapons if they are watermark steel."

"Okay. I . . . may be able to help with that. In the meantime, I think you need an easy way to make good steel - not watermark, just high-quality."

"Like the 'stainless steel' of the scissors you gave me?"

"Yeah, but . . . I'm not sure that's the right kind of steel for weapons. So here's the source, what we came up with a hundred years ago."

Mr. Colbert immediately picked up a quill.

"It's hard to heat up iron properly to turn it into steel, but a man named Bessemer found out that if you force air through the bottom of a mass of hot iron, it becomes much, much hotter. Molten, I think. Some of the stuff in air is exactly what iron needs to become good steel, so this process made good steel much, much more available."

"Earth, and Fire, and Air to enhance the Fire . . ." Mr. Colbert had a faraway look for a moment. "We could attempt such an experiment without too much difficulty. Good steel . . . Tristain does not have sufficient cannon to contest Albion's navy, if Reconquista were too succeed in a rebellion and strike at us next. This . . . do you make your cannons out of steel?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps this could change matters."

"Yeah. Until someone in Albion figured out how to duplicate the process."

"That . . . could be delayed for some time. I know how to be careful with military secrets, Jason."

Jason shrugged. "It'll still get out sooner or later. It always did, back home. In any event, if you can figure out Bessemer steel, I can show you some ideas for guns that'll blow your mind."

"Really."

"Oh, yes. God made man and woman, but it was Samuel Colt and John Browning who made them equal."

* * *

"You seem distracted, Jason. Are you that worried about Miss Vallière's trip?"

Jason grimaced. "That's supposed to be a secret, Siesta."

"Then she shouldn't have arranged passage on the weekly carriage."

_Point. And servants tend to find things out._

"As it happens, yes, I'm a bit worried."

Siesta nodded. "I thought so! Tell you what, I'll give you a letter to take to my cousin. Jessica's the lead waitress at the Charming Fairy Inn, and she'll help you out if I ask her to."

* * *

**A/N:**

David Weber is a historian with a focus on the time when ships used both sail and cannon. He is somewhat better known as a SF&F author. He is _infamous_ for technological infodumps. Which can be a bit dry, but it also means that if you're a fan of modern military sci-fi you stand a good chance of already knowing what Jason was talking about with Mr. Colbert. Thanks to the Gunny - R. Lee Ermey - and his show Lock and Load, Jason also has some idea of what needs to be done to design machine guns and semi-automatic pistols.

In a race between a team with a 21st century rapid prototype fabricator and Mr. Colbert, I suspect Mr. Colbert would win. Think of how quickly he's able to make homing missiles for Saito.

I have element-blocking wards because the setting requires them. A gun has all the gunpowder explode less than a foot from your face. How hard would it be to design a Fire spell that has the effect of creating a spark inside the enemy's supply of gunpowder? Probably not too hard - we just need a spark, after all. Gunpowder doesn't even need air to go off, the oxidizer is part of the powder.

Therefore, if cannons are in wide-spread use, the ships that employ them have to be immune to Fire magic. Note that, canon, we only see cannons on ships, and the bow is still in wide-spread use.

Oh, also: Servants know everything.


	16. Rumors of War II

**Rumors of War, Part II**

The carriage ride was a lot more comfortable than Jason had expected, considering how recent the invention of the shock absorber was on Earth. Fortunately, he was able to remember that, oh yeah, _magic exists_, before he opened his mouth and made an idiot of himself. He and Louise spent the time working on their codes.

When they arrived in Tristainia, a couple of days later, Louise immediately produced a royal warrant for four hundred 'écus'. Which was apparently a somewhat theoretical measurement, since what they were _given_ was a pouch of 'six hundred pennyweight in gold'.

Louise was already disgruntled about wearing the plain clothing that the Academy had supplied under the table(Jason still wasn't sure who Siesta had involved in that, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know), and she was even more disgruntled when she heard the prices at the nearby horse market.

"It's not enough."

"Eh?"

"The money we got for this mission. With only four hundred écus, we'll be broke after buying a horse."

"Right. Why are we buying a horse again?"

"You expect me to walk? Even commoners can be rich."

"Apparently her Highness doesn't want you pretending to be a _rich_ commoner."

"How am I supposed to find out what's going on if I can't move among the rich and the nobility?"

"Did you know Siesta knew where we were going? Nobles ignore servants, but they hear a lot. Maybe that's what we need to do, pretend to be servants."

"How? _Where_?"

"Well, as to that, I mentioned Siesta figured a lot of it out, right? . . ."

* * *

_Yep. She's Seista's cousin._ Jessica had Siesta's straight black hair and slightly tilted eyes. Oh, and from what Jason could tell, she had Siesta's general figure as well. _Grandpa Takeo must have married the most buxom chick he could find or something. Outside of anime, Japanese ancestry usually doesn't go hand-in-hand with D-cups._

Siesta had provided a cover story along with her letter of introduction. Namely that her lover, Jason, was being chased by a Germanian slut, so he and his little sister Louise needed to hide out until classes ended and the slut returned home for the summer.

Louise was _not_ happy.

[I'm going to KILL her, Jason.]

[Patience, Louise.]

An attempt to add Tristain's alphabet to their mental code during the ride - yes, based on Morse Code, although the script Tristainian speakers used was nothing like a Latin-derived alphabet - had caused the translation magic to kick in again. Now they both perceived it as a lot like reading and writing messages in the back of each other's mind. It gave Jason a great quip that he couldn't share with anyone who didn't know about texting. Which was _everyone_. Dammit. Speaking was still faster, although Jason expected that to change with practice.

After reading the note and expressing sympathy, Jessica brought out _her_ boss, a man named Scarron.

Scarron's hair was styled and slicked and suspiciously oily - including his mustache. His shirt was violet satin and opened up in front to display a rather hairy and muscular chest. He was heavily perfumed. He swung his hips as he walked towards them.

_Holy shit, he's a refugee from the Rocky Horror Picture Show!_

Frank-N-Furter took one look at Louise. "Très bien! She is hired!"

_'Très bien'? What the hell is the translation thinking? The French aren't - wait, no, whatever he really said, he's probably trying to mimic some culture that's considered more sophisticated. So it's not that he's French, it's that he's like a San Francisco maître d'._

. . .

_I think I need brain bleach._

* * *

"Good news! Faeries!" Scarron said, smiling as he looked around the store at his assembled employees.

"Yes! Mr. Scarron!" Cheered the girls wrapped in flashy clothes.

"Wrooooongg!" Scarron shouted and started rocking his ass harder than a deranged Elvis impersonator. "Call me as Mi Mademoiselle, alright?"

"Yes! Mi mademoiselle!"

"Très bien."

The thing was, sometimes Mr. Scarron didn't mind being called by his name. But anytime he was addressing his 'Faeries', he insisted on the 'mi mademoiselle' thing. Apparently they were mostly accustomed to it by now.

"First! There is sad news! A nearby cafe has been selling imported tea from the East and stealing our business! . . . Sniff . . ."

"Don't cry! Mi mademoiselle!"

"You're right. The Charming Faeries cannot lose out to this newfangled tea!"

"Yes! Mi mademoiselle!"

Scarron jumped onto the table and posed intensely.

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Un~~"

"Serve with a cheerful smile!"

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Deux~~"

"A clean, sparkling store interior!"

"The Charming Faeries' promise! Trois~~"

"Receive lots of tips!"

"Très bien."

_Yes, I'm sure it's the tea and not your over-the-top persona._

"Well then, I have a wonderful announcement for you faeries. We get to make a new comrade today."

The girls applauded.

"Then, let me introduce her! Little miss Louise! Come out here!"

[Everything is going to go boom. By my name as Vallière, I swear it.]

Louise marched out. What Jason could now recognize as self-restraint locked down her expression, which meant that the blush made her look shy rather than murderously enraged. As for her appearance . . .

Her hair had been put up, with small braids hanging down on each side. She was wearing a rather abbreviated dress, tight enough to add emphasis on her developing figure and missing most of the back. She looked fairie-like. And cute. And _way_ too young.

"Well then, little miss Louise. Greet the faeries that are going to become your co-workers."

"I-I-I-I'm Louise. Ni-ni-ni-nice to meet you."

_Oh, damn. She only stutters when she's _really_ pissed._

[Again, patience. This is for queen and country, yes?]

[GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . .]

While it was an actual inn, the real money-maker for the Charming Faeries was as a tavern. Specifically a tavern where Scarron had figured out a way around the laws that frowned on using blatant sexual appeal to draw in customers.

Jason, who cheerfully admitted that he had rather the opposite of sex appeal, got to wash dishes.

* * *

[Why are you so _happy_?]

[Because I'm winning.]

[Wha-] And then she probably had to talk to one of the customers.

Jessica had obviously not expected Jason to be able to keep up with the dirty dishes. And there _were_ a lot. Still . . .

Restaurants send out the _pretty_ people as waiters and waitresses. Jason's jobs had tended to be in the back. He knew dish triage. He even knew hand-washing. Hell, Scarron had apparently gotten his dish-towels enchanted, because they were able to clean all but the dirtiest dishes in a single swipe.

Jessica's look of disbelief when she came back the first time to get clean plates was comical. After that, Jason couldn't help but smirk whenever the cleaned dishes were collected and sent up to the front of the tavern. Speaking of which, someone was coming back-

Louise marched in, fuming, and grabbed a new bottle of wine.

[You okay?]

[KILL YOU ALL.]

Yeah, she was doing about as well as anyone could expect.

_She'd better get the hang of this soon._

* * *

At the end of the night, Louise could barely stand. At the moment, she was slumped against Jason, and nary a peep about the supporting arm around her.

It seemed that it was payday. Mr. Scarron was back in his male persona and handing out various amounts of coin to his employees. After everyone had their pay and had left, Mr. Scarron looked at the two, shook his head, and sighed.

"Everyone makes mistakes at the beginning, Louise, but did you manage to serve _any_ customers without angering them?"

Louise shook her head, not even bothering to look up.

"You two are . . . odd. I thought that Louise wanted to experience life away from the rules of the nobility, but you don't welcome the attention."

Silence fell for a minute as the implications sank in.

"Let us say," Jason finally countered, "that it would be best if Louise could learn to pass as a commoner at need."

"And you wish to practice on my customers? I really don't like losing them to that cafe."

"I understand, sir. Compensation for lost business can be arranged, if necessary."

Mr. Scarron shook his head. "That's not needed. My regulars know that new girls have to get used to the different atmosphere in my inn. But you _have_ to learn, young noblewoman, if you want to stay here.

"As for you, Jason? I'll keep you on for as long as you wish, but your salary as a secretary-tutor must be better than anything I can offer."

Jason shrugged. "I don't need money, particularly. Room and board, as we agreed, plus patience for my mistress as she learns a skill-set she never dreamed she'd need to master. That's all the payment I want, really."

"Fair enough. I'll see what my daughter can do tomorrow to teach Louise."

* * *

"-and then he told me to give him his drink mouth to m-mouth!"

"How'd you respond?"

"I spit it all over his face and shirt, instead. Then Scarron made me go get another bottle and apologize to that horrible man."

"Wow."

"_Why_ are we _staying_ here?"

"It's a pretty good spot, really. Nobles and rich commoners come here to get drunk and lust after pretty girls. That _does_ make people talkative."

"Yes, but - how can any noble be expected to _live_ like this?"

_This_ referred to not just Louise's job, but their room. Which was the attic. And dusty. And filled with broken furniture. Plus there were bats. Although getting rid of the dust, spiders, and flying critters seemed to have helped Louise calm down. The bloody, mangled bodies of the bats required some extra spells to clean up after she'd exploded them, and the drain of all that spellcasting had taken the edge off her fury.

"You can because your queen who is also your close friend asked it of you."

"I'm getting tired of that reason."

"Let me know when you want to quit, then. We'll owl her that it was impossible to get along without calling attention to ourselves and head back to the Academy. She can find someone else to rely on."

Louise flinched, and Jason felt a bit horrible for attacking her insecurity like that. _Still, if she can get through the next few days it'll get a lot easier as she learns to handle it. Whatever she needs to encourage her to get through these first days, I'll do._

"My people have a term for what we're doing - 'roughing it'. It'll get easier, Louise. Maybe not ever _easy_, but easier. In any event, we should get to sleep while we can."

Louise looked at the bed that had been set up and scowled. "If you sleep on the floor you won't be able to do your job tomorrow. It can't be helped, we'll have to share the bed."

"I could survive on the floor if I-"

"Just shut up and get into bed."

Pretty soon Louise was snuggled up against Jason and asleep, exhausted from the effort of holding in the bulk of her temper all day.

It's funny how instincts work. The room smelled of dust and guano, the bed frankly sucked compared to his air-mattress, and he was rather tired himself from the day's work. None of it, however, seemed to matter compared to the feel of his mistress's head against his shoulder, her tiny frame pressed against his side and holding onto him even in her sleep. _Guess I've got a protective streak in me. I suppose, given the situation, that's not such a bad thing._

* * *

**A/N:**

If you think it's a little weird that Jason and Louise are psychically texting each other via morse code . . . they aren't. Not really. It's a transitional stage. When the translation effect noticed that the Tristainian alphabet had a new set of concepts attached, it integrated them, and this gave some impetus to the developing mental link. The old codes still work, by the way, but probably aren't going to get used again.

The link, of course, is developing because Jason and Louise are actively working on developing it. Who knows how far they can eventually take it?

This Louise is a lot less prone to blow up than canon Louise. That's because Jason, not being a thoughtless and insecure teenager, chooses to be as loyal to Louise as he can, and thus antagonizes her a lot less than Saito does in canon. As a result, she's able to go into situations with reserves of patience and determination that canon Louise had already depleted in an effort to put up with Saito.

Of _course_ Jason's washed dishes before. Aren't Mary Sues able to do _anything_?


	17. Rumors of War III

**Rumors of War, Part II**

Jessica showed up as Jason was helping set the tavern up. "Do you know where Mr. Scarron's daughter is?" he asked. "Louise needs some coaching."

Jessica half-smiled. "_I'm_ Scarron's daughter. Doesn't show, does it?"

Jason laughed. "No, it doesn't. You must take after your mother."

Jessica nodded but stopped smiling. "Yes, I do. Anyway, let me go find Louise."

Jason was able to keep half an ear on their conversation. There were, it seemed, several approaches that a Charming Fairy could take to charming the customers. Innocent(which actually required a filthy mind coupled with the seemingly unaware manner), Flirty, Coy, and Sassy were the usual ones.

"But since you're new and you look so young, there's another approach that would suit you better. Shy."

Shy. The manners of a girl on the brink of womanhood, curious about adult matters but also scared of them.

It was all part of the game played, and Jason thought he was starting to understand how the dynamic worked with the locals.

Sex was a serious matter for married people - it was tied in to concerns of intimacy and, especially, loyalty. The people in charge were generally married and settled by the time they took the reins of power. They acted to preserve the social order that preserved their positions. Places where the rules were set aside for the nobility had to be, above all else, discreet enough to preserve the illusion of fidelity.

The Charming Fairy Inn was not discreet. That meant it had to be careful. Lust and desire were openly encouraged. Acting on that desire? If that was allowed, soon the Inn would be shut down and forced to move to the slums as just another whorehouse.

Jessica was explaining to Louise the etiquette that had developed in the Inn, which boiled down to the idea that talk was fine, but action was to be discouraged. There was a skill-set related to that, of course, and Louise would need to learn the basics that morning, so if Jason could set that barrel down and come over for a demonstration . . .

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Come here and sit down."

So Jason sat down at one of the tables.

"Now, I'm going to serve you a drink, and you need to try to grab me and pull me into your lap."

"What?"

"WHAT?" (That was from Louise.)

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Just _try_."

So he did. Hesitantly.

"What was that? Anyone can grab for a Fairy faster than that. You could be _drunk_ and puking all over the _floor_ and still grab faster than that. Now try for real."

So he tried harder. Jessica slipped out the way with a peculiar twist.

"Did you see that, Louise? Try again, Jason."

* * *

Soon enough it was Louise's turn to practice avoiding groping hands.

Jessica called a halt after half-a-dozen unsuccessful attempts to avoid ending up in Jason's lap.

"You aren't trying hard enough, Louise. Try harder or I'll get Scarron in here instead."

Louise tried harder.

* * *

"Good. Now here's what you do if someone does get a hand on you. Jason, give me your hand."

"Wait a minute. I _know_ what that wrist-press does. You don't have to - ow! Sonovabitch!"

"Quit whining, tough guy. Okay, Louise, now try it yourself . . ."

"So here's what you were doing wrong last night: You were being Sassy.

"Sassy is against the rules, because it challenges the customers to be more aggressive. You have to make sure Scarron's busy, because otherwise he'll break it up like he did last night. It's also the best way to get tips from the right kind of customer, which is _why_ we all try to learn how to do it.

"Don't try it tonight. The customers _know_ that what they say is outrageous. They expect you to ignore it, or better yet turn it around on them. Since you're playing Shy tonight, you should ignore it. Let them see you blush, make sure you dodge their hands, and you'll be fine. If one of them _does_ get a hand on you, break free with that wrist move and get one of the other maids to take that customer. As a Shy Fairy, you aren't supposed to come back if they scare you."

* * *

Louise was sitting at a table, staring at a few coins in front of her, when Jason finished up the last of the dishes and emerged from the kitchen with their supper.

"What's that?"

"What's left of my tips."

"Eh?"

"Scarron took most of it to make up for the customers I angered yesterday."

"Ah."

"I . . . it's really working. Everything Jessica showed me and told me to do, it's working."

"That's . . . good, right?"

"Did you know they have tip races? They see who can make the customers drool the most and give the biggest tips. They see who can collect the most tips in a night or a week.

"They say the m-most shocking things to the customers and then l-laugh about it with each other. They're having fun!"

"Yeah." Jason thought for a moment. What was there to say? "Come on. Let's get up to our room, eat supper, and get to bed."

* * *

Shy didn't let Louise hang around and listen to the customers much. The others did, so as soon as Louise got comfortable with Shy she had to switch to Coy. The others were just . . . too much. Coy wasn't great for tips, but she was after information, right? Her mornings were soon taken up with writing down the details of what she'd overheard. Getting them to Henrietta became a twice-weekly outing, dropping them off at a contact her Highness had provided.

It was still much harder on Louise than it was on Jason. After a week he realized that her appetite was gone and had to force her to eat. She started texting him through their mental link more and more, growing quieter around the other waitresses.

She was also pissed over how many of the girls at the Inn were flirting with Jason by the end of the second week. For himself, Jason didn't have _time_ to deal with them. Between them, Scarron and Louise kept him quite busy.

Then, at the end of their third week . . .

"Faeries! Finally, the awaited week has come!"

"Yes. Mi Mademoiselle!"

"Let's start the tip race with enthusiasm!"

Applause and cheering resounded through the store.

"The Charming Fairy Inn dates back to the Fairy King, four hundred years ago. His Majesty fell in love with one of my ancestors, and sent her a momento of that love.

"That momento is this Charming Faeries' Bustier!"

Scarron ripped off his clothes to reveal a short black bustier underneath.

_My eyes! Someone give me bleach for my _eyes_!_

Honestly, though, it actually fit the enthusiastically posing Scarron rather well. Which had all sorts of unfortunate implications about the body build of the Fairy King's sweetheart.

The really scary part? The various waitresses were practically _drooling_ at Scarron.

"For those of you who are new: This bustier will resize itself to fit whoever wears it. Better yet, the magic on it is called Attraction. Whoever sees you will be overcome with your beauty!"

"Yes! Mi Mademoiselle!"

_That . . . okay, that explains a lot._

Still posing, Scarron continued his speech.

"The fairy that wins the tip race that starts this week will be given the rights to wear the Charming Faeries' Bustier for a day! Think of how much tips one would get on the day she wears it! I get excited just thinking about it! And that's why everyone should try her best!"

"Yes! Mi mademoiselle!"

"Very good! Well then, everyone! Hold your glass!"

The girls held up their glasses all at once.

"To the tip race's success and business, prosperity and . . ."

There, Scarron cut off his words and stood up straight with a serious look after clearing his throat. And then, not in his usual feminine persona, but in the normal voice he reserved for truly serious business, he said, "a prayer to Her Majesty the Queen's health. Cheers."

And drained his glass.

**A/N:**

Canon, it takes Louise a long time before the girls accept her and show her how to do the job right. Here, Jessica takes her in hand early because – well, Jason managed to avoid getting into trouble, so Scarron was willing to treat him like a grownup, and thus they were able to negotiate.

Note that the social order of an apparently monogamous culture almost always allows for _de facto_ polygamy in the form of long-term mistresses, at least among the powerful and wealthy. A whorehouse don't pander to _that_. It panders to the wish for consequence-free sex on demand, which is a lot more dangerous in a resource-scarce society for multiple reasons. Scarron is playing with fire, here - but also making a lot of money.


	18. Rumors of War IV

**Rumors of War, Part IV**

[HOW DOES SHE DO IT?]

Unfortunately, Louise had gotten into the spirit of the competition. Okay, perhaps it was understandable. Inevitable, even, after Louise overheard a few of the girls giggling about using the bustier _after_ business hours. She didn't seem to believe Jason's conviction that the flirting in his direction wasn't meant seriously, and the idea of anyone entrancing him with the magic of the bustier pushed Louise to try out Flirty on the customers.

Of course, while she was doing that, half the girls were pushing Sassy as far as they could get away with, and often a bit beyond.

Jessica was the clear leader, earning as much in tips as the next two girls put together. Louise had _plenty_ of suspicions about her. Jason's perceived position as a 'secretary-tutor' meant that as a scholar he had excellent social status for a commoner, but was probably dirt-poor. Jessica was the daughter of a prosperous business-owner. He looked like a great catch for her, and her father's not-insignificant income made her an advantageous match in return. If she had something planned, the bustier would be the perfect way to 'seal the deal'.

Of course, this was mostly deduced from Louise's mental commentary. Jason _wanted_ Louise to be possessive of his affection - he had _plans_ for what would happen once she was 18, dammit - and he had to wonder how much that was influencing his interpretations.

On the final day, Louise was in the middle of the pack, tip-wise. She was allowing her hopes to be built up by gossip about the final day, and how customers could be enticed to be big tippers . . .

And as it turned out, luck chose to help out a couple of the other girls. Louise was holding her own, but not making any real headway.

[Someone just came in - a big group!]

Damn. There was someone else to build her hopes up.

[Oh? Do they look rich?]

[It's a landed noble. I don't recognize his crest, but he has a mixed group of mages with him. . . . Scarron doesn't look happy.]

[Then he may not have a good reputation around-]

[He just made all the regular customers leave. Now he's my _only_ chance-]

Louise marched in to grab a clean plate, Jessica right behind her.

"-telling you, no, Louise! You _can't_ go serve him. He's the local tax collector. He doesn't pay, he doesn't tip, and if you try to serve him he'll make you go with him when he leaves. Father will handle him."

"I'll _make_ him tip me!"

"Louise." Both girls turned to look at Jason - Jessica looked a bit surprised at how firm his voice was. Louise just looked defiant.

"_No_, Jason. I can do this!"

"Quite possibly. You _have_ learned a lot this past month. Right, Jessica?" She nodded. "Doesn't matter. With those retainers, he's a Royal appointee. Draw attention to yourself and he _will_ remember your face."

[What's worth more to you? The bustier or the mission?]

Louise stopped short. Her eyes grew wide, her lip trembled, and her whole body shook.

"Yeah." Jason picked her up, cradling her as if she were a toddler. "Jessica, can you handle the rest of the dishes? I think the excitement's gotten to her a little."

As soon as Jessica nodded he headed up to the attic.

* * *

"So, do you need to hit me this time?"

"Mmm-mmm." Then, a second later, she pulled on his collar, exposing enough of his shoulder that she could bite down, _hard_.

"What _is_ it with you and the biting?" he demanded as soon as he pried her loose.

"A familiar who disobeys his master should be punished," she smirked.

"Yeah, right. _This_ is what you do with someone's shoulder." No need to tug anything down on her all-too-scanty costume. He felt her shudder and gasp as his tongue found the nerve cluster between shoulder and neck. When he pulled back she was redder than she'd ever been for the customers.

"T-that's not a p-punishment!" she finally got out.

"No, it isn't. C'mere." He pulled her back into a hug. "We're about done here, right? You haven't heard anything new lately. Maybe tomorrow we should head back to the Academy."

"How about tonight?" she countered.

Jason shrugged. "Fine by me."

* * *

"You're leaving already?" Scarron looked a bit disappointed. Jessica looked _very_ disappointed.

[I bet she _did_ win that stupid bustier.]

"Yes, sir. There're other matters that we need to attend to." [Wasn't she ahead anyway?] "Perhaps, if things permit, we'll return sometime in the future."

[Yes. Let's get out of here before she thinks to show it off right now.]

"As customers or employees?" Mr. Scarron took Louise's hand to kiss it farewell - a custom normally only seen among higher nobility.

"Who can say? However it turns out, thank you for your patience and generosity."

* * *

There was quite the crowd of students leaving the Academy as the coach pulled up. Louise didn't feel like dealing with any of them, so the two circled around the Academy and Louise levitated them up to her room.

Siesta was napping on the bed. Jason was sure that Louise was going to explode over this, but she didn't.

[Um - why aren't you mad about her being here?]

[I sent the Academy an owl with a letter for her, telling her when we'd get back and asking her if she had any . . . new books to share.]

"Right." He walked over and shook Siesta's shoulder. "Siesta?"

"Jason."

"Yeah, we just got-"

"Shhh, don't wake Louise up. The Fox's Tail?" Giggle. "I'll try to stay quiet."

Then she went silent again, before gasping.

[Um . . . I think she's dreaming.]

[You _think_?]

[So, the 'Fox's-']

[It's one of her BOOKS!]

And Siesta's books were medieval porn. The maid was having a wet dream involving him and a sleeping Louise.

_Shit_.

[You have a spell to wake her up, right?]

[Oh, yes. I do.] Perhaps, after the last month, Louise was a bit out of practice in thinking of magical solutions to problems.

[Well, she can't help what her dreams are about, so don't blame her, okay?]

[Just stand back so she doesn't confuse her dream with the real world.]

"Jessica wrote to me about you two."

"Really?"

"Yeah. She made me admit you weren't really my lover. So . . . if she got a little flirty in the last couple of weeks, that was my fault. Sorry."

"It's _fine_. We left before she was able to use magic."

"Magic? . . . Oh, the Charming Faeries' Bustier! She promised to lend it to me once I pick a man to use it on." Then she winked at Jason.

This set off a new round of fuming by Louise, and it took Jason three full days to get her to settle down.

**A/N:**

As a recovering tsundere, Louise doesn't like to admit to herself that she's got a thing for Jason. Especially since she's had a thing for Wardes since she was a little girl. Despite that, her suspicions about what Jessica was planning were a lot more accurate than Jason realizes. He suggested leaving because he was humoring Louise's concerns, rather than sharing them.

As for Jason - well, by now he's managed to define the relationship such that he has the final veto over what Louise does. Louise hasn't quite admitted _that_ to herself, either, in part because he doesn't exercise it very often. In one sense, he's acting a bit like Eléonore and refusing to let Louise go out and put herself in jeopardy. On the other hand, he's trying to get Louise trained up as much as possible, and Eléonore gave up on that a _long_ time ago.


	19. Wind of Fate I

**Wind of Fate, Part I**

Mr. Colbert was excited to see Louise and Jason show up again, but he waited until supper to drag Jason off to his suite. Siesta had obviously been instructed before-hand, because she was there as well, setting out meals for all three of them.

"It took some experimenting, but we figured out how to get good steel with your method last week," Mr. Colbert announced between bites. "You forgot to mention that the process still needs a flux to purify the iron. Yesterday we tested a no-magic version and got it to work, as well. Since you don't use magic, how do you form the liquid steel?"

"We used molds for centuries. Clay, I think, for molten bronze, but I'm not sure what works with steel. Modern steel-working . . . I don't know. It may be a matter of making blanks and ingots and cutting away what isn't needed."

"Molds might work, and we could supply ingots, I suppose. You said you had gun-lore you could share if we could make your 'Bessemer' steel."

"Yeah. Ready to take notes?"

Mr. Colbert got out bark paper and what looked like a home-made ballpoint pen. Clearly he'd continued with some side projects.

"The first thing is the idea of mass production. You need to be able to make large numbers of things that are almost exactly alike."

"Which you could do with molds."

"Yeah. The first reason? We're going to revolutionize bullets. Instead of having the ball and powder be separate, make it all as part of the same standardized package. You see the advantage?"

Mr. Colbert thought a moment. "You only need to push one thing down the barrel. You . . . you could reload fast enough to fire more than a handful of shots in a battle."

"Exactly. Also, you need to stop using balls as the ammunition." Jason pulled out his own pen and made a quick sketch. "A copper cylinder with a lead point on one end, that's what modern rounds of ammunition look like."

Mr. Colbert studied the sketch and frowned. "The back will be tricky. We'll want something that will burn through quickly, but if it's too thin it'll tear easily and the powder will spill out."

"Wha-? Oh, shit, you're right. Sorry, forgot to mention. You need a percussion cap. I consulted my library on that - you guys know what mercury is, right? Quicksilver?"

Mr. Colbert nodded. "Quicksilver, yes. It's an alchemical curiosity. Reasonably pretty, and not too hard for an alchemical specialist to make from base stone."

Jason scowled. "Seriously? You guys are _lucky_ on that. Getting it the mundane way is both toxic and dangerous." He shrugged. "Anyway, is there any chance you know what I mean if I say 'fulminate of mercury'?"

Mr. Colbert frowned. "I . . . don't think so. That last phrase sounded . . . very foreign. I don't think it translated."

"Shit. Okay, check with your alchemists. What you want is a solid that explodes when you strike it. You see the application for firearms?"

Mr. Colbert thought about it, and blinked. "You don't need to hold the weapon steady until the fuse touches the powder, or the spring unwinds enough to spark the powder. You . . . don't need any loose powder at all, do you?" Jason shook his head. "You get rid of . . . would you even need to worry about wet powder?"

"Nope. So, yeah. Figure out percussion caps, that by itself lets you skip something like 300 years of development.

"Which brings us to the second innovation. Rifling. If the bullet tips are lead, the explosion of the gunpowder causes them to spread slightly. If you put spiral grooves in the barrel of the gun, that spreading will force the bullet to spread into the grooves, which will cause the bullet to spin. That spin will make it less likely to tumble around in the air, so it's accurate to a much farther range. If you have skirmishers with long muskets, they'll have to teach the regular musketeers how to aim if they're going to be proper riflemen. Um . . . I think we use a copper coating on the outside of the bullets to keep from smearing hot lead along the inside of the barrel.

"The third thing has to do with rates of fire. See, with a coarse-threaded screw, you can actually make an explosion-proof breach in a steel gun, so you don't have to slide the bullet down the barrel. Which brings us to the idea of the revolver, the shotgun, and the bolt-action rifle . . ."

* * *

Mr. Colbert wasn't sure that mass-produced bullets would be easy to do, even once the mystery of the percussion cap was solved, and the idea of making gun-parts that had to be mass produced had him shaking his head. For himself, Jason thought it was a little odd that the man who clearly hated war was so willing to improve Tristain's ability to wage war.

With students gone, the summer routine was quite different. The teachers had much more time for research, and the few students who were staying behind worked on independent study projects. Once Louise had dusted off her targeting skills, Mr. Colbert had enough time to create some randomly-moving targets. They were almost impossible to hit at first while riding on Jason's shoulders as he ran back and forth, but she stuck to it with eager determination. They also started jogging together in the morning, at Jason's request. "Endurance training," he explained.

Two weeks passed as they trained, experimented, and researched.

* * *

The noise at the window woke him up. Louise continued to sleep, but he could see a woman floating outside the window, so he nudged Louise awake. She had her wand in hand as he opened the window and let the woman in.

It was Henrietta.

"I have a serious problem," she admitted an hour later over the bottle of wine that Louise had apparently been keeping in her room.

_Good stuff, too. Was Henrietta expected? Pity I'm a lightweight when it comes to drinking._

"Thanks in large part to the rumors you reported, Cardinal Mazarin was able to uncover several Reconquista agents and have them arrested. It seems they decided to give up in Tristain for now, because the Cardinal just received word that they rose up in Albion just over a week ago. Most of the army and navy went over to them, and His Majesty does not believe his loyalists will survive for another two weeks.

"I have a letter that _must_ be delivered to Prince Wales while the loyalists hold. Louise, I need someone I can trust _completely_ to deliver this letter, and you're probably the only person I can send who doesn't report first to Mazarin."

"_No one_? What about-"

"Captain Wardes? I'm sending him with you to keep you safe, but I don't want to test his loyalty with something this big."

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "Has this captain been trouble in the past?"

[What? No, he-]

Henrietta shook her head. "It's not that. The viscount is ambitious, and that leads him to serve us well, but that ambition could lead him to gamble his honor if a greater prize was in reach."

"Ah." Political training. The young queen had to be able to know when a courtier was acting from loyalty, ambition, duress, and so on. _Better you than me, Highness._

* * *

"Another mission for Her Majesty?"

Jason winced. "Is it _really_ that impossible to keep secrets around here?"

Mr. Colbert shrugged. "I know what to pay attention to. You know, we _do_ have that small surplus of magical percussion caps at the moment. Would you like to go armed this time? Perhaps do some of that field-testing you say is necessary for these puzzle-piece firearms?"

Jason shook his head. "No, that shouldn't be necessary. And if something goes horribly wrong, I'd rather not risk them falling into non-Tristainian hands." The same went for all of his _irreplaceable_ relics of Terra, like his watch and his phone. _It's a good thing that Mr. Colbert's colleagues figured out how to dupe as much as they did. Going without our toothbrushes would utterly suck._

* * *

Jason looked at the horse.

The horse looked back.

Neither looked very happy.

[What's the problem, Jason?]

[How to put this? I spent maybe five hours over the course of a week learning how to ride a horse, and that was almost 10 years ago.] Good memories, though. Scout camp had been a lot of fun.

[You don't use horses? What, you rode trains everywhere or something?]

[No, we have different machines for journeys of less than a hundred miles.]

[Whatever. You have to mount it sometime, so hurry up.]

They were bringing a total of four horses with them - all remounts for Jason, apparently. This Wardes fellow was supposed to be meeting them as soon as they got out of sight of the Academy.

As soon as he fumbled his way onto the horse, Louise just about _vaulted_ onto the saddle in front of him. [Alright, since you don't know what you're doing, pay attention!] She used the reins expertly, bringing the horse to a smooth canter and leading the tiny herd away from the Academy.

* * *

Wardes rode a griffon. He was tall - almost as tall as Jason - and lean. He had a neatly-trimmed beard and mustache, and overall looked rugged and badass. He was the jerk that Louise had been blushing at, back during Henrietta's first visit.

He swung down from the griffon with fluid, practiced ease. Louise copied him. [Stay on the horse, Jason. You'll take too long to remount.]

Wardes lifted Louise's hand to his lips as soon as they reached each other. He murmured something to her, causing her to, yes, blush. Dammit.

Jason carefully blanked his expression as the two nobles conversed. [Friend of yours?] Honestly, sometimes it was a good thing that this mental texting didn't let emotions though very easily.

[He's . . . my family was negotiating with his for a betrothal when his father died almost ten years ago. Then he left to serve in the Royal army, and that was put on hold. He . . . he was always nice to me, whenever he visited. We haven't spoken to each other in a long time.]

[I see. How is he likely to react to our relationship as mistress and familiar?]

Louise didn't respond for a moment. [Probably the same way everyone does], she finally sent back. [I'm going to tell him that you're a foreign scholar who was hired as my secretary-tutor.]

Which was . . . rather deceptive of her. The possible motivations for that were . . . interesting.

* * *

_Sixty Miles in the Saddle, by Major Assburns. Heh. And _ow_. Pity that puns usually don't survive the translation._

Wardes had set a hard pace. His griffon seemed to be inexhaustible, which wasn't really fair. Especially since Louise was riding double with _him_, now. _Where do lion-eagle hybrids get their stamina from, anyway?_ Jason had gone through his remounts disturbingly quickly, and they had been exchanged for fresh ones more than once along the way. The result?

Well, on the one hand, his ass hurt worse than a new inmate in an Alabama prison. On the other, they'd managed to cover 60 miles in one day, and they were now at the _port_ city of La Rochelle. Which was on a _mountain_.

_Airships? Do they have _airships_? Why didn't anyone tell me they have fracking airships!_

Unfortunately, the terrain around the mountain offered all too much in the way of ambush points, which was aptly demonstrated when a hail of arrows swept down on the three travelers. The _most_ unfortunate part, of course, was that Wardes was apparently a Wind Mage of decent strength, and got to look awesome by blowing away the arrows with a quick gale.

The jerk was poised to take out a second volley when fire started erupting from where the arrows had originated. The fading evening light didn't make it so easy to see what was going on, but the flames illuminated a sizable shape moving through the sky.

[Tabitha and Kirche.] Jason and Louise sent the thought to each other simultaneously.

_Damn. It _is_ impossible to keep secrets at the Academy._

The fire ended, the wind dragon came in for a landing, and Kirche leapt off to pose triumphantly. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she smirked.

Louise jumped off the griffon - _I'm going to have to practice doing badass mounts and dismounts at some point_ - and stalked over to Kirche. "What do you mean, 'sorry to keep you waiting'! Why are you here in the first place?"

Kirche shrugged. "Saw you leave, saw you meet with her Highness's Captain of the Guard. Woke up Tabitha and we've been following you ever since."

"Zerbst! This has nothing to do with you! Go away."

"I told you before, Vallière, I'm not losing to your family." With that, she sauntered over to Wardes and the griffon. "Tabitha's poor dragon is all tired out from carrying both of us. Maybe I could ride with you the rest of the way."

"I already have a passenger," Wardes responded flatly. "You can double up on the horse if the wind dragon is that tired."

* * *

"You're letting your little mistress ride with him like that?"

Jason had been all too happy to let Kirche take the reins, since she knew how to get the blasted horse to smooth out its gait. Louise _wasn't_ happy about it, but she didn't demand to switch places with Kirche. Dammit.

"You say that as if I could stop her."

"Oh? She forgot you as soon as a handsome older man showed up?"

_Eat shit and die, you jealous, scheming bitch._ "Eh? You're going to have to learn that as soon as Louise is involved, none of the men want anything to do with you."

She stiffened and got the horse to trot. Jason gritted his teeth and told himself that it was worth it.

**A/N:**

If you think Jason has it a bit easy describing things to Mr. Colbert . . . well, yeah, he does. It's canon that Mr. Colbert's inventive prowess _easily_ matches the likes of Leonardo De Vinci, Thomas Edison, and Nicoli Tesla. In addition, remember that Mr. Colbert's magic allows him to create test models much faster than anyone on Earth. As for the details of how the guns worked? Jason paid attention when he was watching Lock and Load. He's a geek with a taste for military sci-fi, and therefore {Matt Smith voice}guns are cool{/Matt Smith voice}.


	20. Wind of Fate II

**Wind of Fate, Part II**

It was less painful for Jason to stay on the horse while Wardes and Louise made arrangements. The next ship to Albion would be in two days, so they rented out a pair of rooms at the Goddess's Temple inn(Kirche and Tabitha also rented a room). Very fancy place. Marble and silk everywhere, temperature regulated by magic, the works.

His legs collapsed on him before he could even step foot inside. Louise rolled her eyes and levitated him up to the suite, dumping him face-down on a bed in the two-bed room.

"My main isn't Water," Wardes pointed out once Louise had left for her own room. "Still, any cavalry unit learns to handle saddle sores. If you'll pull down those odd trousers of yours, I should be able to fix the worst of it."

One advantage of losing weight - his pants slipped off with a minimum of additional pain. Wardes whistled when Jason peeled off his boxers, teeth clenched to avoid screaming.

"You must not have ridden for years," the captain noted. "Most recruits would fall off, screaming, before they were _half_ this bloody." Was that a hint of respect in his voice?

"Yeah," Jason gasped. "It's been almost ten years."

"That's why your posture was so wretched." Wardes chanted a short spell, and the worst of the pain vanished in blessed relief. "Give it a few minutes and then see if you can stand. If you can, I want you to soap up thoroughly and then soak in hot water before you go to sleep."

For all that he missed showers more than baths, the idea of a soak sounded real good just then.

* * *

Wardes decided to join Jason in the rather spacious hot tub - and after a day of hard riding that was understandable. They soaked for a bit before Wardes said anything.

"So what have you been teaching Miss Louise?"

Jason opened his eyes. Wardes didn't look particularly upset, just interested. "I thought I would be teaching her the Quadrivium, but that's been pushed back." Which was pretty good for just 2 seconds to think up bullshit.

"The Four Arts?"

"Three refinements of arithmetic - algebra, geometry, and calculus - and physics."

"I . . . do not know those words."

"No? Okay, algebra is advanced arithmetic, the rules for looking at a math problem from many points of view. Geometry is the math that describes shapes. Calculus is the math that describes time. Physics is the study of the fundamental rules of reality when magic isn't interfering."

"But you had to 'push them back'?"

Jason nodded. "After discussing how magic worked, we were able to work out a way for Miss Vallière to use basic magic."

"And her element?"

"Fire, according to the Academy instructors. On the other hand, when it comes to proper Fire, she's only gotten Ignite and Fireball to work, and Mr. Colbert says she's not doing either of them correctly."

Wardes sighed. "It's not what you expect, from someone of her lineage."

Jason shrugged. "She's got plenty of mana. Once she works around whatever problem is holding her back, she'll go far, I'm sure." Not that he would complain if Wardes switched his attention to one of Louise's older sisters, but how to suggest such without arousing suspicion?

* * *

Jason's thighs and such were in good enough shape the next morning that he was able to limp out and join the rest for breakfast.

"Bad day of riding?" Kirche wanted to know.

"My first in a decade," he admitted.

"You'll be well enough to take ship tomorrow," Wardes noted with a certain clinical detachment. "You should be fully recovered by the time we reach the White Isle."

"Well, since the joke I want to make probably wouldn't translate correctly, let's talk about something else. What's it like in the Royal Army?"

Wardes' account of his years as a soldier were edited a bit for the ears of the ladies present, but they still made for an entertaining morning. Also informative, since Jason had no experience with the local military other than hints gleaned from Mr. Colbert.

The standard weapon for an army mage was a wand built as a sword - essentially a rapier. It allowed them to switch between melee combat and spellcasting in a heartbeat. Mundane troops had to wear heavy armor, specifically enchanted to block magic, to survive a fight against a mage. Bows and crossbows were dangerous to any mage who wasn't good enough with Air, and firearms, shooting lead balls too fast to see and intercept, were dangerous to everyone. Except elves, that is, who were said to be so fast that they could dance through a battlefield and never take a scratch.

Wind was less directly lethal in battle, but ruled the air. Earth was brutal on land, Fire was dangerous anywhere except underwater, and Water was weakest in battle everywhere but sea, where it had an overwhelming advantage.

* * *

Wardes took Louise out strolling through the town after lunch. Jason was back to soaking in the hot tub, dosing off, when he heard a pair of splashes. He opened his eyes to see Kirche and Tabitha settling in. Kirche looked all too smug.

"Seriously, Kirche? I thought we didn't really like each other."

She shrugged, the motion incidentally lifting her breasts above the water for an attention-demanding instant. "You don't have much choice, do you? As a familiar you have to be loyal to the little girl."

_Too bad we're too sore to do more than look. Wait. No. Blessing in disguise. Louise would go ballistic._

"And?"

"I see how you look at her when you think no one is watching. You aren't a loyal servant, you're in love and you don't care about the difference between a commoner and a noble."

Jason smiled, ever so wry. "That's because I'm not a commoner. Foreign, you know? We organize ourselves differently back home."

Kirche shook her head. "That doesn't matter in Tristain. In _Germania_ things are different. That secret project you have Mr. Colbert so excited about? If it amounts to something it might be worth a title to His Imperial Majesty. Here? If you don't have magic you aren't anything."

Jason shrugged. "We're about to become part of Germania, right? Perhaps His Imperial Majesty will reward me after all."

"Wardes has a strong title and is a powerful mage. How do you intend to compete with him?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Since you act as a rival and enemy to Louise, I'm pretty sure I shouldn't provide you with the gossip from her household."

"Cautious," commented Tabitha in her usual soft tones.

"Yes, Tabitha, I know." Kirche rolled her eyes. "If you help me attract Wardes' attention, you won't have to deal with him as competition."

"Yeah, but he hasn't shown any sign of interest in you. I'm pretty sure he's going to be focused on Louise until he decides whether or not to pursue their childhood engagement."

Kirche tossed her head back. "Maybe all you need to do is wait, then, until he finds out why she's the Zero."

His eyes narrowed. "Perhaps. And perhaps this is an elaborate ploy to get me in trouble if Louise decides to take a look through my eyes."

"She can't." Again from Tabitha.

Kirche nodded. "I can see through Flame's eyes, but Tabitha can't see through Sylphid."

"Huh. Is Sylphid as smart as a human?"

Tabitha nodded. "Like a child. She's very young. We can only talk."

"Yeah, okay, that's how it is with me and Louise. Although - how hard was it to adjust to having a dragon? She can't fit in your room, can she?"

Tabitha blushed faintly. "She . . . changes."

"What, like her size?"

Kirche snorted. "Yes, she changes her size. Enough that they fit on the same bed, right Tabitha?"

Tabitha nodded again, still flushing. There was clearly a story there - pity he wouldn't be able to tease it out of them without offering Louise's secrets in exchange.

"Mmmm. Well, I was dosing off rather nicely when you two showed up, so if you don't mind I'll get back to that."

* * *

[WAKE UP!]

Jason came awake in a jolt, almost standing up in the bath before his still-healing legs registered their protest. Kirche and Tabitha had apparently left while he was napping.

[What's wrong, Louise?]

[Someone's attacking us. Thugs AND mages. Wardes is taking me to the ship, we're going to cast off soonest, you have to hurry!]

He gritted his teeth and ignored his legs as he threw on his clothing. He didn't even know which ship to get to - or where the harbor was! Louise would have to guide him in - and Wardes was certain to wonder how he would be able to locate them so quickly.

He had only just finished dressing when the door flew open and Kirche and Tabitha strode in. "Sylphid says your mistress is under attack and retreating to the docks," Kirche announced. "How quickly can you be ready to go?"

"Right now," Jason responded as he grabbed the saddlebags. He hadn't bothered to unpack, so everything was ready to go. "You don't mind giving me a ride?"

"No." Tabitha said softly.

Kirche smirked. "I'm not finished with this adventure, and the Zero can't complain if we make sure you get to her."

Shouts came from the direction of the lobby, accompanied by clashing steel and chanted spells. Time to go. "I'm not going to complain either, as long as Sylphid can carry us from the balcony."

As the three soared away, Jason couldn't help but wonder. Bandits outside the city was one thing, but a coordinated attack within the city was disturbing. It indicated someone was feeding up-to-date information to Henrietta's enemies.

_Could it be Wardes? All too convenient for my own sense of jealousy - and pointlessly baroque. If he wants Henrietta's letter he can probably just take it from Louise at some point. Could be someone keeping an eye on Wardes, though. We'll have to see if any new crew join the ship we'll be taking._

_It could also be Kirche and Tabitha, but again, that's a really complicated setup._ He'd have to continue to think about it for a while.

* * *

**A/N:**

It is, at this point, perfectly reasonable to ask why Wardes isn't being nearly as pushy as he was in canon. I decided not to invoke his contractual obligation to act like an asshole: Jason doesn't need the help to look like a half-way decent bloke.

As for the rest . . . well, you'll see.


	21. Wind of Fate III

**Wind of Change, Part III**

Although La Rochelle wasn't terribly large by Terran first-world standards, as a port city it was of respectable size for a medieval culture. And it had been dark when they arrived. _And_ he hadn't left the hotel to explore. So Jason hadn't actually seen the harbor.

Which was why it took him a few minutes to realize that the giant tree Sylphid was flying towards _was_ the harbor. Still, he'd finished gaping by the time they landed on the massive branch where Wardes and Louise were arguing with an older man, all next to a ship that looked something like an oversized yacht with a pair of horizontal masts on each side.

"-telling you, we don't have the windstone supply to make Albion! Half my ballast is still being charged, and it won't be returned until tomorrow!"

Wardes stared down at the captain, unmoved. "With the unrest going on in Albion, any sane man would ensure the ability to make a round trip without recharging. What you have will be enough to get us to Albion."

The captain grabbed his hair in frustration. "Yes, you're right - IF we use the planned launch window tomorrow! Right now I can get you within 20 miles of Albion, and then we'll all crash and die. Noble or not, you can't change how the world works, sir!"

Wardes smiled thinly. "I'm ranked Square in Air, Captain. The young lady with the dragon who just landed is a Triangle of Air. Between us we can probably fly your ship to Albion without any windstones at all."

The captain's shoulders slumped. "Fine. At least give me time to recall my men on leave - unless you want to replace them as crew, that is."

"That is acceptable. You have until sundown. At that point we launch regardless."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, look this is just a short hop, so a lot of my officers are taking leave and sitting this out. I've got four empty cabins, feel free to divide them among your retainers, I've got work to do." And with that the Captain stormed off, calling for his bosun.

"You made good time," Wardes noted dryly as Jason limped over to him and Louise, followed by Kirche and Tabitha. "The Captain will stretch out _his_ time as much as he can. I daresay we'll see more cargo come in than crew."

"That makes sense," Jason allowed. "What do you think he's transporting?"

"He reeks of sulfur. A valuable cargo to the rebels, and priceless to the loyalists."

"Oh. Huh. Um . . . does that strike anyone else as a gamble? I mean, whoever he deals with might just seize the cargo and tell him he's lucky to keep his life."

"It would explain why so many of his officers are refusing to make the trip." Wardes shrugged. "But I am not a merchant. With four cabins, we are able to allow each of you ladies the comfort of a private room, if you wish to continue the voyage."

Kirche grinned. "A fight yesterday, a daring escape today, and maybe pirates tomorrow! I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"Fair enough. Dame Tabitha, will your dragon be able to keep up with us?"

"Sylphid will change size and rest in my cabin," the tiny mage responded softly.

"Even better. With everything settled, Mr. Jason, we should reapply the healing spell and get you into bed before those saddlesores fester."

* * *

Even from the cabin, Jason could tell by the sounds that cargo was being loaded as quickly as possible. Wardes came back in soon, shaking his head.

"Even the crew who _are_ bothering to show up are stinking drunk. I'm going to nap until sundown - they'll need someone sober watching the stars tonight."

* * *

The cabin was dark when Jason woke back up, but there was enough moonlight to move around without crashing into anything. He felt much better, too, so moving around wasn't the agony of yesterday.

_Flying above the ocean at night . . . I wonder if the view is as spectacular as that sounds._

He quickly dressed and left the cabin. Outside, on deck, Wardes stood next to his griffon, grooming it with a brush in the area between shoulder and wing. A tired sailor stood at the helm, and nearby Louise leaned against some railing, looking out to the distant horizon.

[Is everything all right?]

. . .

[Yes.]

He walked over to Wardes. "I'm guessing that sailor is sober enough to remember which constellation to follow."

"And sober enough to keep a steady hand on the wheel, thank Brimir." Wardes pulled out his wand and cast a spell at Jason, then nodded. "Your blood is moving properly through your thighs again. Its virtue is depleting at a proper rate, and there is no hint of infection. You should be fully healed in a day or two."

"Water spell again?"

"Water-Air-Air." Wardes paused. "If you are recovered enough to stand sentinel over Miss Vallière, I shall seek my rest."

As Wardes made his way back to the cabin, Jason walked over to Louise, and looked out over the ocean.

"It's a breathtaking view," he offered.

She nodded. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much." [I apologize in advance for the paranoia, but do we need to watch what we say on this ship?]

[We . . . might.] Her face twisted into an especially unhappy frown. "Wardes has been very kind to keep me company while you healed."

"Gallant of him." [Is there trouble with him? Didn't you have a possible engagement with him?]

"He _is_ responsible for our safety." [He's . . . not what I remembered.]

"Then he discharges his responsibilities admirably." [The years can change a person, but he _is_ on duty.]

"Yes, he does." [He used to be . . . kind. To me, at least.] "Have you ever been on a ship when there were clouds below? It's like flying over a fairy-tale landscape." [Now, when he talks to me, he-]

"I have, yes. Although not recently." [He what? I thought he seemed perfectly charming, when you rode together.]

[He's charming, but it's . . . I don't know.]

[The difference between performing all the steps at a formal dance, and being able to relax with a trusted friend?]

[Yes! He and I are dancing, and he keeps making moves that I don't know, and I'm not sure how to respond.]

"I must admit, I almost prefer the clear skies and calm seas, where we seem to drift through the infinite twinkling depths." [What kind of moves are we talking about?]

[He asks about my studies, and he's putting . . . he wants to know if I've figured out anything remarkable. He's asked what _you_ can do. He's . . . if I don't tell him something, it means I don't trust him like a wife should trust her husband.]

[Is the engagement final, then?]

[No. But, no one else of rank has even approached my parents.]

[Still, he presumes. You don't have to admit him into your confidences if you aren't comfortable, and if he's pressuring you then it might be for the best. May I assume that you know the moves to keep him at arm's length without offering insult?]

"You're right. It is a beautiful night." [I do. But he _is_ my only suitor.]

[We _are_ about to join with Germania. Who knows how your options may look afterwards?]

"Jason, the night air has made me sleepy. I hope you will be well enough to join us at breakfast." [You're right. Everything's going to change soon. I'll remember that.]

* * *

"Albion in sight!"

The bellow woke Jason from the nap he'd _finally_ managed to sink into. At least his legs were almost completely healed.

He stumbled outside, and blinked back tears as the full light of day blasted into his eyes. As his vision slowly cleared, he saw the others all looking in one direction, but all he could see were clouds.

"_Where's_ Albion?" He asked Louise.

She pointed. "Over there! It's still a long ways away, though."

"I just see clouds."

"Not at all," Wardes said from the other side of Louise. He was looking through a spyglass. "That 'cloud' far in the distance, that towers over all the rest? _That_ is Albion."

"But – where's the land? There's just ocean under the clouds, I don't . . ."

Everyone had turned to look at him. "What?"

Wardes had a disbelieving look on his face. "You honestly don't know?"

"He's foreign!" Louise reminded them. "Albion is the _White Land of Wind_, Jason. There are so many windstones inside it that it floats above the ocean."

". . . . Oh. Okay, that's something I've never seen before."

"Scarborough Port fell to the rebels, but it seems largely intact." Wardes had gone back to studying Albion through his spyglass. "The captain will probably land there. I would say that we should fly directly to Newcastle, but the rebels are suspicious of anything that flies these days. We may have to make our way over land, and then fly across the siege as quickly as possible."

"There's a siege? Lovely."

"Yes, our last intelligence was that the royal family and the remnants of the loyalist army were under siege at Newcastle. They _ought_ to respect our status as ambassadors, but that is uncertain."

"_Nothing's_ certain right now!" the captain snapped from behind them. "There's a warship just left the clouds behind us."

They all turned to look. The ship in question was _much_ larger than their own, and several cannons were already poking out from the side facing them. And, yes, it was gaining on them.

"I don't see a banner – shouldn't there be a flag or something?" Jason wanted to know.

"No," Wardes grunted. "That's a naval ship, but the captain must be trying his hand at piracy in the chaos of the uprising."

"Can you do anything?" the captain demanded. "You and the girl – drop the air out from under them!"

"_We_ have depleted ourselves to spare your windstones and silence your whining! The other two mages are Fire, which the ship will be warded against. We cannot help you, captain."

The warship ran up a multi-colored flag, and the captain groaned. "They just ordered us to stop. There goes my cargo!"

* * *

**A/N:**

Wait, aren't they engaged? Doesn't Wardes try to force a marriage? What the hell's going on!

Simply put, negotiating a marriage wasn't nearly so simple in the real life historical analog - and the noble women of the time didn't have magic with which to defend their agency. _This_ is a version of Louise who isn't getting shat upon by everyone anymore, so Wardes can't just socially blitz her into eloping. And, well - feel free to go over the original timeline and compare the information available to Wardes with what's available to him in _this_ fic. Now, going strictly by what Wardes can know, is Jason Windalfr, Gandalfr, Lifdrasr, or a foreign scholar hired to maintain a pretense and avoid scandal?


	22. Wind of Fate IV

**Wind of Fate, Part IV**

On the other ship, archers and musketeers lined the deck, aiming at the crew. Others threw grappling hooks, and a dozen large men swung over, sabers in hand.

Wardes grunted suddenly. "They have at least one mage with them."

Jason looked at him – Wardes in turn was looking at his griffon. Blue-white smoke was dissipating from around its head, and it crashed to the deck, sound asleep.

Of the men who had swung over, all but one were dressed in little more than ragged canvas. The last was dressed as fine as any of the students at the Academy, but his clothes were filthy, his white silk shirt stained almost black by sweat and grime. More than one bandage was visible through the tears in his clothing, and a patch covered his left eye.

"Alright, where's the captain of this wreck?"

The captain reluctantly stepped forward." Here," he said quietly. "I'm the captain of the _Marie Galante_."

The pirate leader stepped up to him and sniffed theatrically. "And you thought you could quietly bring a load of sulfur into these troubled skies, did you?"

"We fly a Tristainian flag." The captain spoke quickly. "You have no right to detain us, and Her Royal Majesty will not tolerate piracy against one of her loyal subjects!"

"No, no, of course not. We'll _buy_ your cargo from you, right now." The other pirates laughed at this. "Come, let's negotiate. How much _are_ your lives worth, do you think?"

The captain snarled, but bowed his head. "Fine. You win."

"Of course." He waved to his men. "You six, watch the crew as they bring our sulfur onto deck. The rest, let's secure our prizes."

Louise stiffened in shock as he lead his men over to them. Kirche was practically spitting in anger, and Tabitha had gone completely still.

"Such noble guests we have!" the pirate crowed. "We've not seen such fair damsels in _months_. Why, I can't even begin to _imagine_ how _upset_ my men would be if any of you three declined an invitation to dine with us this evening."

"You dare-!"

"Don't be a fool," Wardes cautioned. "We lost when they showed up. It would take a _hero _of_ legend_ to save us now!"

_Yeah_, Jason thought as the pirates laughed again. _Pity we've only got me_.

_But, if that's all we've got . . . In encircled __ground_, _devise stratagems__._

"Captain," he said, loudly, and everyone looked at him. "You're a merchant, yes? You always pay attention to the profit margin, because if you don't, you go out of business."

The captain was still for a moment, then nodded. "Yes. Not that any noble ever understands things like that."

"No, of course not. But you have to keep your operating costs as low as possible, right? You never know when you'll have a run of bad luck, after all."

"Well, yes, but-"

"Hey, tubby!" the pirate leader interrupted. "Are you simple or something? What are you going on about?"

Jason shrugged. "Just this. Captain, _how long has it been since you had your fire wards maintained_?"

_Everyone_ stiffened.

The captain smirked. "It's been . . . quite some time."

"Good. Kirche, Louise, _prepare to repel boarders_!"

The girls grinned, almost in unison, and snatched for their wands.

"What are you-?" Wardes was almost apoplectic.

"You're crazy! My ship will destroy you if you so much as touch us!"

"Really? We have spoken of profit and value, so tell me this: How much is _your_ life worth?"

The pirate leader opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "We can still blow you all to hell."

"_And we can take you with us_. So, let's all think carefully about how we can calm down and negotiate like an officer and a gentleman of the Albion navy _ought_ to."

"_How_ did you – let me signal my ship, and we'll all find out how much my life is worth."

"Right. Tabitha?"

The girl looked up. "Yes, Jason?"

"If this ship is blown apart, Louise is your priority. Get her to safety."

She nodded, once.

Kirche looked _very_ offended. "And just why is the Zero more important that any-"

Wardes held up a hand. "Jason is correct, Miss Zerbst. This is Louise's mission, and-"

Over on the other ship, a very thin man had come up on deck. He spoke with one of the sailors, and soon a new signal flag rose up.

The pirate leader relaxed. "Well. It looks like my life is worth something after all. Captain, I can't promise you _much_, but we can at least give you back the value of your cargo."

The captain shrugged. "At this point, anything is better than nothing."

"Yes. As for the rest of you – if you have business in Albion, you will have to take ship with us for the rest of the journey."

Wardes nodded. "We accept."

"Wardes?"

"You have been very clever, Jason. Now _please_ trust that _I_ know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, okay. Oh, Tabitha?"

"Yes?"

"You should probably let Sylphid out now, if you want to continue with us."

The wind dragon burst from Tabitha's cabin and settled into a protective hover over the girl, glaring at the pirate leader.

He looked back up at it and, very quietly, gulped.

* * *

It was not a cell that they were shown to, and their wands had not been taken. But there were no windows to the outside.

"Will Sylphid be well out there, on her own?" Louise asked Tabitha as soon as the door shut.

"She's happy to stretch her wings." Tabitha smiled faintly. "She knows not to let them get a clear shot at her."

"Enough seats for everyone. Good!" Jason didn't so much _sit down_ as _collapse_ into his chair. Louise rushed over to him.

"Jason? What's wrong?"

"Paint me midget and call me Vorkosigan!" He took a shuddering breath. "Louise, do you have any idea just how many ways that could have gone horribly wrong?"

"To start with, three noblewomen could have easily been molested." Wardes shook his head. "How did you know the _Marie Galante's_ wards were too faded to block fire?"

"I didn't. Hell, we still don't. I built it up like that to give the captain enough thinking time to go along with me."

"Are you crazy? We could have been-"

"Like Wardes said. You girls were at risk. I had to do something, and if you're running a bluff, you have to keep up the momentum or else risk losing the initiative."

"You changed the battleground," Tabitha spoke up. Her smile was back, and this time it actually touched her eyes. "We couldn't win, but you moved the fight to something where we didn't lose."

"That was the idea, yeah. I'm still trying to convince myself that it _worked_."

"Better than you realize, I think," Wardes said. "It brought you to the attention of the leader of this ship, at any rate."

"Yeah, but that's only a good thing if he's willing to play by the rules of the nobility."

Wardes smiled. "I believe-"

The door opened up. The same thin pirate that had come up on deck stood before them. "Lord, ladies, good sir, if you would follow me, _my_ lord wishes to meet with you."

* * *

The thin pirate lead them to a lavishly-decorated galley. At one end of the table, a man stood hunched over and reading a map. He straightened up as they entered.

He was very tall, and wore a broad admiral's coat that did not quite close in front. His hair and beard were both dark and coarse-haired, and a nasty scar ran up the left side of his cheek almost to his nose. He held an elaborately-carved cane with a flawless crystal ball on one end.

"So you are the ones who forced us to play fair today?" he asked, his deep bass voice a growl.

Wardes lifted an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

Jason frowned. "Okay, our guardian is _far_ too relaxed right now. Who are you, that he is absolutely _certain_ you pose no threat?"

The man laughed. "I should have known it wouldn't work. When did you figure it out, Viscount Wardes?"

"When I saw that you'd brought your personal butler with you."

Louise looked back and forth between them. "Your butler? Who _are_ you?"

"You don't recognize me? Oh well, at least it works sometimes."

The man peeled off the scar, then the black hair and beard, revealing blond curls. He took off the bulky coat with the broad shoulders and stepped out of the trick boots he was wearing. Finally he snapped his fingers, and in a mellow tenor voice asked, "Do you recognize me now, Louise?"

She stared at the slender young man, not much taller than Kirche. "Prince Wales?"

"Wales Tudor of Albion, at your service."

_Tudor? As in the _English dynasty_ Tudors? Oh, what I wouldn't give for Wikipedia access right now._

"Also called the Valiant, these days," Wardes added.

"As titles go, I can't say I'm ashamed of it," Wales acknowledged. "I'm not so proud of the title Admiral – this ship is all that is left of the loyalist fleet. Too many turned traitor as their towns fell, not that I can blame them.

"So, what brings you to my troubled nation, Louise? I'm afraid we are no longer a fit place for ladies."

"I . . . have something for you. From Princess Henrietta."

"Ah. And how is my cousin doing, in these uncertain times?"

Louise looked a bit sad. "Well enough."

"Very well. If you will all give me and Louise some privacy, I shall . . . attend to my cousin's gift."

As the four started to walk out, Louise called out, "Jason?"

He stopped.

"I want you to stay."

Wardes and Wales both looked shocked. "Louise," Wardes got out first. "This is a private meeting between a prince and an ambassador! You can't-"

"Jason was present when the princess gave me this task. She trusts him with my well-being, Wardes, as she trusts you with our safety."

Wardes stood still a moment. "Indeed." He then turned and marched out the door.

"And what is he, then?" Wales wanted to know when the three were alone. "A half-Germanian by-blow of the Vallières?"

[Can I tell him?]

[Go ahead.]

"No, I'm her Magical Animal Companion. Her _familiar_, as crazy as that sounds."

"Are you _serious_?"

"Yes. But you can think of me as her secretary-tutor if that's easier to handle."

"And here I thought the _Germanians_ were the ones with a mania for trying out new things."

"He was what showed up!" Louise snapped. "And it almost didn't happen – it was my fourth try!"

"Oh." Wales looked thoughtful. "And does your magic work now?"

"Yes, _finally_."

"That is wonderful to hear. Well, I should see what Henrietta sent me."

Louise pulled out the letter and offered it to him.

Wales took it from her and held the seal next to the gem of the ring that he was wearing. Both gem and seal glowed faintly.

"This letter was indeed sealed with the Ring of Water, and untouched since. Well done, Louise de la Vallière, you have been a true friend to both Tristain and Albion." He opened the letter and began to read.

After a minute or two he stopped. "Her Highness is to marry, truly?"

Louise nodded. "I'm sorry."

"We do what we can to serve our nations. Sometimes we are even permitted to succeed. I am not angry with Henrietta.

"She asks that I return something she lent me not too long ago, and I agree that it must be returned before the rebels overcome us entirely. However, I left it in Newcastle for safe-keeping. Despite the danger, will you come with me to retrieve it?"

Louise nodded. "If that is what we must do, then that is what we must do."


	23. Wind of Fate V

**Wind of Fate, Part V**

After being dismissed by Wales, Jason and Louise rejoined the others. They all headed to the deck to watch the approach.

As they drew closer to the floating island, Louise was able to point out specks of light that were _entire towns_. Apparently, Albion wasn't so much a large floating island as a tiny floating _continent_. The sheer _size_ of it was enough to give Jason a slight sense of vertigo.

Once they were close enough for Albion to utterly dominate the horizon, Jason could see clouds billowing out from underneath the floating mass. "Does it get cold on the underside?"

Louise nodded. "There are icicles hanging down if you go far enough in. Why?"

Jason shrugged. "Hot air holds water better. Cool it down and you get clouds, then rain. The underside of Albion doesn't get any sun, so it stays cold. The colder air mixes with the warmer air, already wet because we're above the ocean, and I wouldn't be surprised if there are always clouds around the base of Albion."

"There are." The slender prince had come up behind them at some point. "You seem to have a good understanding of water and air, for one lacking magic."

"I try to pay attention."

"Indeed." The prince gestured for them all to gather round. "We are nearing Newcastle, but I've received word that the _Lexington_ is blockading it. I'm afraid that it has my poor _Eagle_ rather thoroughly outgunned, so we will approach through the clouds, using the underside docks.

"I have been urged to require you all inside, to prevent any possibility of the route falling into enemy hands. I am not willing to be quite so rude, but I _will_ ask that you all put away your wands until we are safely docked."

[Um, can I have some context, Louise?]

[Any mage ranked Line or better in Air can take soundings, for flying through nighttime, fog - or clouds. Wardes and Tabitha both could learn this route if they were free to cast.]

* * *

The journey underneath the floating continent started out as little more than fog. Soon enough the fog thickened to the point where Jason couldn't see much farther than Louise, beside him, although they could all hear the thump as Sylphid landed next to Tabitha.

Then they were plunged into total darkness, and the already-damp air turned chilly and clammy.

"I _am_ sorry," Prince Wales called out, "but we will not be able to risk any light until we are safely docked."

Jason felt a slight tug on the side of his shirt as Louise grabbed hold. He paused a moment - _hell with it_ – and put his arm around her, pulling her in against his side. She stiffened, but then relaxed, and shifted to rest her head against his shoulder.

[Albion's scenery isn't always much to look at, but I'll never complain about the company.]

. . .

[Not even Kirche?]

[Kirche is conflict, not company.]

. . .

[Good answer.]

They stood there, waiting in the cold and dark, with only the calm murmur of the prince giving directions to the helmsman to break the silence, but Jason found himself quite content.

* * *

It was just after they started to ascend that a faint light could be seen shining from above. Louise pulled herself away as it grew stronger.

They broke out the fog to find themselves entering a large cave covered in white moss. At one end of the cave a dock had been constructed. A lookout was sounding a bell, and by the time they approached a few dozen people were waiting to help the ship dock.

An old man, dressed as a mage, was one of the first to greet the prince as he stepped off the gangway. "Your highness," he said reproachfully, "you have returned once more."

"Don't complain this time, Paris," Wales grinned. "I bring a cargo of sulfur with me!"

"I can smell that!" the old man snapped. "You should be fleeing to Tristain, not trying to save a bunch of doomed old men."

Wales looked positively _feral_. "I still have my duties here, Paris."

"To _hell_ with your duties here! Your duty, first and foremost, is to live and preserve the line of Albion!"

"The royal line of Tristain has enough Albion blood to handle that, Paris. I am not _finished_ with my duties here, and I must attend to our guests."

The old mage was still grumbling to himself as Wales led the group upwards.

"Will the sulfur make a difference?" Jason wanted to know.

"We'll be able to make gunpowder again," Wales replied. "That will help, yes."

"Wait, you can transmute quicksilver, but not sulfur?"

"They don't have anyone left who is ranked enough in Earth," Wardes put in.

Wales grimaced. "I'm afraid so. Mages born of Albion tend to favor Air, and Earth is the most difficult element for us to master.

"The sulfur will help, but it won't help enough. Right now, the Lexington is probing at Newcastle, trying to provoke us into using up anything we have left. If we show that we can still fire cannon, they'll delay the final assault for a few more days, until we're exhausted again."

Wardes smiled thinly. "I should not like to try to take Newcastle in the face of cannon _and_ magic."

"They'll lose ships as it is," Wales confirmed. "Father _will_ employ the Relics, and that alone will mean a double handful of warships sent crashing down."

"They should try to have His Majesty killed, then," Tabitha said, soft as ever.

"They surely _tried_, Dame Tabitha, but they failed, and now they'll have to pay the cost in blood if they want to finish this."

The sounds of celebration came from up ahead.

Wales winced. "Are they already-? Ladies, you may want to cover your ears, and maybe move a little faster . . ."

"Why?" Louise wanted to know. "What are they-"

"Oh, those Reconquista traitors," a dozen voices sang in ragged harmony, "are naught but masturbators! They-"

Jason clapped his hands over Louise's ears. _The _one_ time poetry translates well, and it has to be filthy doggerel_. _Just our luck_.

She tried to pry his hands off. [Let go of me!]

[Only if I can pick you up and run.]

. . .

[Fine.]

He let go, and Louise flushed tomato-red as the third verse accused someone named Cromwell – _Cromwell, over-thrower of the English dynasty, butcher of the Irish, holy shit something weird is going on!_ - of something particularly unlikely. She quickly clapped her own hands over her ears, and made no protest as Jason picked her up and sprinted up the next set of stairs.

At the top of the stairs, Jason looked around. Wales and Wardes were with him, but-

"Don't worry about us," Kirche caroled from back where the men had been singing. "We're going to sit back and relax while you do diplomacy!"

Wales looked a bit constipated. "What does that girl think she's doing?"

"A dozen new faces, maybe?" Jason snarked. "She calls herself the Ardent, and seems to think she has a reputation to maintain."

"Rep- Oh, Brimir, she must be one of the Zerbsts. Viscount Wardes, could you possibly keep an eye on her?"

"I doubt she'd need it. Or want it. But it might be best for Dame Tabitha to have a less ardent chaperone."

Wales, Louise, and Jason continued down the corridor as Wardes turned back. "I'm not sure Tabitha really needs a chaperone," Jason finally pointed out.

"No, of course not," Wales responded instantly. "But it would be best if she did not hurt any of my men. We are outnumbered quite badly as it is."

_Well, shit_. "How badly?"

"I have a few hundred. The rebels have tens of thousands able to act as soldiers." Wales smiled sadly. "My raids with the _Eagle_ are the only reason they haven't been able to concentrate enough to storm Newcastle. With the _Lexington_ repaired and airworthy once more, I cannot prevent the next assault, merely bleed it. Newcastle will fall within the week."

* * *

The quarters that Wales led them to were frankly small and plain, smaller than Louise's suite back at the Academy. He walked over to the desk in one corner, opened a drawer, and pulled out a little jewelry box.

The ring that had confirmed Henrietta's seal as genuine was likewise applied to the box, causing the lock to glow and click open. The interior of the lid had a detailed, if small, portrait of Henrietta fitted to it. The box itself contained a single sheet of silk paper, well-worn from frequent use.

Wales picked it up and read it one last time with a sad smile. He then kissed it, put it into the envelop Louise had given him with the other letter, and re-sealed the envelop.

"This is what her Highness desired from me." He handed it to Louise with a quick bow. "Please see it to her safely."

Louise offered a deep curtsey as she took the letter. "I swear it will not leave my person until Henrietta receives it."

Wales nodded. "Good. I will have the _Eagle_ return you to Tristain tomorrow. Henrietta may consider it the wedding gift from Albion."

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "You won't need it?"

"It won't make enough of a difference to be worth keeping. By this time next week I shall be dead, with all the remaining loyalists."

"Right. Okay, it's time for me to be ruthless. Louise, you probably need to destroy that letter right now."

The prince and the lady stared at him in shock. Louise found her voice first. "That is _not_ what Henrietta charged me with, Jason! You-"

"Do I need to say it? That letter _is_ a love-letter, isn't it, your Highness?"

"Yes, it is. How did you know?"

"Her highness is to marry, but she needs a letter retrieved by someone that she can absolutely trust to bring it to her. The worst possible thing I can think of is a letter that pledges what any romantic young woman might pledge to her lover – undying devotion and fidelity.

"And her Highness speaks with all the authority of a monarch. If that letter is worded as strongly as I'm guessing, it probably counts as proof that you and she are already wedded!"

Wales sighed. "It could be taken that way. It _would_ be taken that way. Some of the phrases imply that we are not merely wed, but consummated as well."

Jason grimaced. "Spare me the details. _Please_. I have to watch students trying to court each other at the Academy as it is."

Wales frowned. "I assure you that her words were endearing, not revolting."

"Whatever. The point is, we were attacked twice before we even left La Rochelle. Someone knew Louise was doing something important for Henrietta, which means her Highness isn't nearly as good at keeping things secret as she'd like to think. Even worse, once she _is_ married, every day that letter is the possibility of disaster should it be discovered.

"You said that you aren't angry with her for trying to serve her nation. If you mean that, then help her do her job and _destroy that letter_." Jason shrugged. "Unless there's some critical piece of information on there that she needs to retain. In that case copy it out and _then_ destroy the letter."

Wales looked at the letter. "I confess, I am very reluctant to see her love reduced to ashes."

Jason tilted his head. "Well, there is the second option."

"The second option?"

"You're down to just a few hundred men. Tristain is no more than a day away. It may be standing room only, but the _Eagle_ could probably take everyone to safety in one trip."

Wales clenched his fists. "Do you think I have not considered that?" he snarled. "Those who could evacuate have _done_ so! Those who are left – their families still hold their estates. If we flee, they give up their families as hostage to men who have proven themselves butchers, plunderers, and rapists!"

"Oh."

"Oh, _indeed_." Wales took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to be calm. "But you are correct about the letter, I fear. Set it down, Louise, and we shall see it its destruction."


	24. Wind of Fate VI

**Wind of Fate, Part VI:**

After the letter was destroyed, Wales led them to meet his father.

The King of Albion was leaning over a table holding a model of Newcastle, discussing crossfire possibilities with a handful of senior mages and soldiers. They broke off the discussion as Wales led Louise and Jason into the room.

Wales bowed deeply to his father. "Your Majesty, I would like to present the Lady Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Vallière, and her secretary-tutor, Jason. Louise, Jason, this is my father, James Tudor of Albion, His Majesty by the Grace of God and Brimir."

His face was wrinkled and his hair was white, but the king's eyes were keen and alert. And, for the time being, amused. "Wales, do you honestly think that titles and formality will be Albion's salvation, at this late date?"

Wales shrugged. "We do what we must, for honor's sake."

His father snorted. "Honor demanded that you obey your father, and leave the fighting to your brothers."

"They fell, and honored Albion with their deaths. How could I flee like a coward after they offered their blood so freely?"

King James regarded his son with narrowed eyes. "There are lessons on duty I have not taught you, and I have no time to teach you now. Let it be. I will admit that the sulfur you brought will let us charge a greater butcher's bill than we anticipated.

"Louise, we have never met outside the most formal of circumstances, but Wales would tell me the stories from when you-"

"Father!" Wales blushed crimson.

"My son, hush. Watching you grow from a child to a man has been the joy of my declining years, and I treasured your stories more than I can express. And so, Louise. How has your life been, in the years since you played with my son?"

Louise winced. "Your majesty, I, er, must confess that we tormented your son more often than we actually played with him."

King James looked _very_ amused. "I know. But it is the nature of little boys and girls to bedevil each other. Practice, perhaps, for when they grow older. My question stands: How have you been?"

"I – I have finally found my element and my magic."

"That should ease matters greatly with your family. And this secretary-tutor of yours – a Germanian scholar, I take it?"

[That's the second time I've been identified as Germanian, but I look nothing like Kirche. What's going on?]

[Kirche is – I'll explain later.]

"Jason is from beyond the ocean. I hired him because I still couldn't do magic, but over the course of a lunch he managed to figure out how I could get my spells to work, so it only made sense to keep him around."

"Ah. You must be an accomplished mage, then, Sir Jason. May I ask where you hail from?"

"My home is Texas, which is a member-state of America." More correctly known as "Texas and those other 49 lesser states", but that joke would have needed _far_ too much explanation. "Have you heard of it?"

"No. You must be from very far away indeed. And your element?"

"I'm not a mage, just a scholar. I figured out Miss Vallière's problem because I have a foreigner's perspective – and, to be honest, we were lucky that my idea worked. I was guessing more than anything."

"I see." The king looked a bit disconcerted at this.

"Don't discount Jason as a mere commoner," Wales said. "When we were going to raid the ship he was on, to keep their sulfur from the rebels, he used his understanding of Fire to turn the tables on the boarding party and convinced us to pay the captain a fair sum for the cargo. He also reasoned out the cause of the clouds under Albion as fast as any Air mage might have. Louise is fortunate to have a man so canny in her service."

"As you say." King James shook his head and continued. "Louise, is your business with my son concluded?"

"It is, your majesty."

"Then I will ask you to dine with us tonight, and then tomorrow Wales will return you to Tristain."

Wales smiled, crookedly. "And then I will find myself hit over the head and thrown off the ship before it returns to Albion. It took me almost two weeks to make my way back the last time, Father, and I decline to command the _Eagle_ for this mission."

King James looked furious for a moment, but then he slumped in defeat. "I cannot even have you punished for your insolence; my followers would not tolerate it."

[Two weeks to make it back? I thought the uprising was about a week ago?]

[No, this is just the latest uprising. Probably the last one, if Newcastle falls like His Majesty says it will.]

The king sighed. "I will not spend this night fighting you, my son. Come. Let us all dine together."

* * *

As they left the war-room, a short and very thin man joined them. He was dressed in a truly eye-searing array of patched clothes. And upon seeing Prince Wales he bent over until his head was literally looking back at them from between his trousers.

"Father!" he cried, "I have wreaked havoc upon the enemy!, but, alas, I too have suffered injury: My head seems lodged firmly up between my ass-cheeks!"

Wales rolled his eyes. "Very _funny_," he growled.

The man seemed almost to excrete his head and torso, then uncurled the rest of his body, leaving him upside down, walking backwards on his hands with apparent ease. "Hark! The world is turned upside down, and it seems we are left with but a Fool for a prince. For if a prince is a fool, then surely a Fool must sit at his father's right hand to feast!"

Wales looked _pissed_, but kept quiet this time.

"Um," Jason said. "Keeping in mind that Albionian isn't my native language – was that as, er, clever as it sounded to me?"

"If you mean, did he very cleverly call me an insane idiot for returning to Newcastle, _yes he did_."

"Prince Wales, _everyone_ here has been calling you an insane idiot for returning."

"But a Fool makes a fool as he pleases, and then all may laugh at Fool and fool alike." The court jester pushed off and landed on his feet this time. "Yet if it pleases the court to take heart in a fool, then a Fool is made wise if he undoes their devotion to save a fool. And then how shall a Fool remain a Fool if he be wise and not foolish? So let fool be prince and prince be fool, for fool and Fool alike shall make feast for crow in coming days."

* * *

The great hall of Newcastle had been decorated with riotous intensity. _They must be using what they have while they're alive to have it_, Jason decided.

A cheer broke out from the assembled noblemen and soldiers as Wales emerged from the hallway, complete with assorting greetings and catcalls. There were only two tables where the gathered did not cheer – a mixed group, mostly of older men and women(the only women in the hall, save Louise), all grim-faced and silent.

"What's with the quiet ones?" Jason muttered to the Fool.

"Their families already feast with the crows, and all that is left to them is to woo and dance with death." The Fool had abandoned his mocking air for the moment. "I do not make sport of them."

They came to the highest table, where Wardes was waiting for them, standing behind a chair three down from the head of the table. Wales helped his father to his seat, and then took his own place at the right hand of the king. His butler guided Louise to the other side, directly across from Wales, and then to Jason's surprise the butler seated him directly between Louise and Wardes.

[The hell is going on? Servants don't sit at the King's table, do they?]

[I'm here as Her Majesty's ambassador, and you're the one I kept with me when we spoke with Prince Wales.]

[Oh. This is out of respect for you and Henrietta. That makes more sense.]

"My true and loyal vassals, Prince Wales has returned safe, and his raids have made it possible for us to hold out a few more days before we fall." King James looked old, worn, and grim, but his voice was firm. "Many of you still have families. If you worry about Reconquista failing to honor their non-involvement, there is time to take some of them to Tristain and safety."

The nobles in the hall looked at each other. No one spoke for a long moment. Then one older man stood up.

"Your Majesty, one ship could rescue my family, but there would not be room for our vassals, retainers, and servants. We have seen what those cowards do to loyalists who have no noble protection. I will fight and die here, but my daughter will stay alive to protect our people – however she must! - and so we both fulfill our duties.

"Let them come! While there is strength enough in me to hold a wand, they will not find Newcastle undefended!"

Everyone cheered. Someone began playing an instrument – Jason couldn't see where – and the Fool moved to the middle of the hall and started up an act, playfully insulting various nobles to the laughter of their fellows. A background of happy chatter filled the room, but it seemed to Jason that there was a frantic edge to it.

"Daunting, isn't it?" murmured Wardes.

"That's a good word for it, yes. I keep trying to come up with a third option, as it were."

"Even though it is not your life in the balance?" Wales put in, curious.

"As Viscount Wardes says, I'm feeling rather daunted. I would have to win a very great prize indeed to lay down my life with no hope of survival."

"If we fall now," the king said, "I _do_ win a great prize. My beloved kingdom is not laid waste any further by a costly civil war."

"Yes, but – how was it that Reconquista took hold to begin with? Surely you keep an eye on your restless."

"Of course." King James sighed. "We were always able to find local groups, but no matter who we arrested or executed, more and more took up the cause. Every time we thought we had Cromwell cornered, it turned out to be a decoy or a double. And there were always the cadet nobility to recruit from, mages looking to take the lands from the senior branches of their families."

Jason blinked. "You squished them but they kept popping up . . . did you ever figure out which foreign nation was the secret patron of Reconquista?"

The king's eyes narrowed slightly. "That was the same conclusion my spymaster arrived at, before he was assassinated. How did you come by it?"

"Because history may not repeat itself, but it rhymes. The Soviet Empire, who were rivals to America, liked to soften up their targets much the same way before conquering them."

King James shook his head. "If we had figured it out soon enough, we could have blockaded the ports, perhaps. In any event, we never found out who the sponsor was. Your Queen's regent enjoys his authority. Germania's Imperial Court is labyrinthine and impenetrable. The Pope is a fanatic. Gallia is ruled by a madman. Any of them could be responsible."

"Her Majesty would _never_ act against Albion in such an underhanded fashion!" Louise sounded horrified and indignant.

"Then, for her sake, let us hope her regent is not the one responsible." The king shook his head again. "It might not be any of them. The blood of Wind can be found across Halkegenia just like the others. This could a ploy to replace the Tudor dynasty with another."

"So someone might be setting Cromwell up to fail? Or is he supposed to be the new king?"

"He claims to be the modern successor to Brimir," Wales put in. "If he stops before trying to retake the Holy Land everyone will know he's a fraud."

"And so I shall be quite busy in these upcoming months," Wardes said. "If you will pardon the impertinence, is your business concluded? It would ease my mind greatly to return to my true responsibilities."

Prince Wales nodded. "We are finished, yes. However, the Eagle will not be ready to depart until tomorrow."

Wardes grimaced. "Again, I beg your pardon, but we do not know when the final attack will be launched. I would very much prefer to take Louise to safety now. Can you have a windstone harness prepared?"

"But – you can't fit a windstone helm on a mount. You want a _raw_ windstone harness?"

"I've used them before. The ride won't be pleasant, but they'll last until we reach the coast, especially from this high up."

Wales shuddered a bit. "You're right about the unpleasantness. How will you fit everyone, though?"

"I hadn't planned to. I am somewhat more comfortable risking the others – they may fly back tomorrow, as they choose. In any event, the Zerbst girl drank enough to sleep soundly tonight, and Dame Tabitha insisted on accompanying her to a private room."

"And I've already said Louise is the important one," Jason acknowledged.

* * *

A great wind caused Jason to tumble over as Wardes's griffon took off. As he got back up, he noticed that the king, the prince, and the two guards had all managed to stay upright. It was a bit annoying.

"She goes to the woman you love," said the king to his son. "You should be chasing after her."

"It would only cause trouble," replied Wales. "She must marry, and could I stay away? Tristain needs a strong ally, not the beggar prince I would be reduced t-"

He gasped, clutched his belly, and collapsed. One of the guards hurried to him and rolled him over, revealing a face twisted in pain.

King James had his wand out and was already casting a spell. "Poison!" he snarled as the spell finished. The guards stiffened, and it was only a second or two before a wand and two sword-wands were pointed at Jason, with three angry faces behind them.

* * *

**A/N:**

Once again, I released Wardes from his contractual obligation, which was to be an asshole in order to try to make the protagonist look better. Apparently he decided not to engage in any monologues, either. Or, at least, not to Jason.


	25. Wind of Fate VII

**Wind of Fate, Part VII:**

_Ohshitohshitthey'regonnakillmethinkfast_-"ANTIDOTE!" Jason yelled as he raised his hands. "You have healing potions, you have to have something like an antidote potion! Give it to the prince, we c-"

"Poisons attack the stomach _first_!" King James snarled, his wand not lowering. "By now it's too late! You-"

_The stomach? Then maybe_ – "I didn't _do_ it! I sat across from the prince, I didn't touch anything that he ate. I've been with him all this time, I haven't had anything to do with any food, I haven't had any kind of _chance_ to poison him!"

"You arrived, _commoner_, and now my son is dying!"

"The prince returned to a doomed castle, _Majesty!_ _Reconquista_ doesn't want him to escape and one day return. Search me for poison – you won't find any! – and then send for your cooks. See who's missing! And bring my saddlebags here, so you can see there's no poison in _them_ either."

* * *

Despite a certain amount of indignation over a commoner issuing orders, they ended up doing what Jason suggested. One guard was sent off as a messenger, and the other gave Jason a none-too-gentle search, while the king tried to make his son as comfortable as possible.

The sheer number of pockets in Jason's pants roused fresh suspicion, but none of them had any kind of poison residue, so the king's suspicion was grudgingly abating by the time the guard returned with cook and saddlebags.

As the cook made fearful apologies for what it seemed was not one, or even two, but _three_ sudden disappearances among his assistants, Jason was showing the contents of the saddlebags to the other guard. He'd about finished up with that by the time the king dismissed the cook.

"No poison?" King James asked the guard who'd searched Jason's things. The guard shook his head. "Very well." The king addressed Jason. "It seems that you are _not_ responsible. Viscount Wardes has a better instinct for danger than I had guessed. If this was meant to demoralize then the final assault on Newcastle will come soon, most likely with the dawn.

"I will have another harness made for Dame Tabitha's wind dragon. You should be able to reach Tristain safely."

The sudden threat had given Jason an adrenaline spike. It was now wearing off, and he felt a bit shaky and rather cold. Everything seemed just a bit remote as he stood up straight, one particular item in his right hand. "Demoralize? If they meant to demoralize you, Majesty, then let them choke on their cowardice. Before you wake the girls, send for your Fool, I pray you."

The king lifted an eyebrow, but sent off one of the guards.

"Now," said Jason, "please answer what I asked in my panic. Do you have an antidote potion near at hand?"

King James glanced down at the prince, who was twitching and trying not to whimper. He nodded to the remaining guard, who produced a vial from a belt-pouch. "You have to catch poison early, before it ruins the stomach. Why do you ask?"

Jason bared his teeth in a deathly grin and held up the syringe he'd pulled from his medical kit. "Because _this_ will inject the antidote directly into the prince's blood, and I have some healing potion to help repair the immediate damage."

Jason's hands were slightly shaky, so he had to take some deep breaths to calm down before he could administer the potions. Wales's face quickly lost the agonized expression as they took effect.

Jason stood back up. "Now, your Majesty, put him out, if you will."

"What?"

"Put him to sleep. Air controls breath – if you can make it seem that he's not breathing without killing him, do it."

"What!"

"Your Majesty – _do you want to save his life?_ I can take him to safety, but he'll fight me every step of the way if he's awake."

King James cast a spell, and Wales's breathing shifted to a deep sleep. "And why do you want me to make it seem that he's dead?"

"Because-" Jason rubbed his head. "I'm sorry, my mind is racing faster than I can talk. Majesty, if I'm right Reconquista will be a very bad ruler for Albion. In a few years they may welcome the return of the Tudors, but only if the vanished prince is alive _to_ return. I'm going to try to hide him, and we'll see what happens."

"And for this he needs to seem dead?"

"I'm flying back with a Germanian and a Gallian. They have no reason to hide the secret survival of the prince from their home nations. They're the first ones I need to fool."

"Then . . ." King James thought a moment, then spoke to the remaining guard. "Bring me the Mask, then gather up all the Relics that can fit in a chest, and bring that chest here. Tell no one that the prince survived the poison."

The guard left immediately, moving past the other guard, who had just returned with the Fool.

The Fool looked at the prince, sleeping easily now. "It seems an ill-fitting jest to say the prince is poisoned. There is no need to make a fool of a Fool, or am I not already the Fool of the court?"

"He was poisoned. I had a foreigner's trick that saved his life." Jason was speaking so fast that he felt like he was running out of breath again. "Fool, you make up clever insults – can you do lyrics? Song?"

"At times. What is a Fool to sing of?"

"Albionian isn't my native language. I don't have time to correct the rhythm or the rhyme. I need you to fix this – give it some bite!:

"Albion's lost its champion, to God he has returned

To stand before the Tester in the state his rank has earned-"

"Do you think to make mock of a Fool? The prince lives."

"Yes, but we're going to put it out that he died by poison. By now the rumors have to be starting. Reconquista tried to assassinate the prince to demoralize Newcastle. I need you to help me make them _choke_ on it!"

The Fool looked to the king.

King James nodded. "Jason will take Prince Wales to safety. Our duty now is to force Reconquista to pay dearly for Newcastle, that the Prince may one day come back for his throne."

"Yes! And it will be known that a few hundred brave souls gave their lives to stand against the dawning of tyranny in Halkegenia! I swear it, they will sing songs across Tristain of you."

King James looked almost amused. "For now, perhaps you should finish this one?"

"Oh, right."

* * *

The Fool thought that he'd be able to put something together, and he was just leaving as the guard came back with a mask that he handed to King James.

"People are starting to talk," he informed the king. "I'm not telling them anything, and that's making them talk more."

"Let them. Go now, gather the other relics."

"Sire."

King James looked at the other guard. "Go to where our other guests are resting, wake them and bring them here, and then go have a windstone harness made up for the wind dragon."

After the guards left, the king knelt by his son and placed the mask over Wales's face. When he lifted the mask, it seemed that Wales had stopped breathing.

"This is the Requiem Mask, one of the relics of Air. Apply it to my son again to lift the enchantment. Until then, he will seem dead to all but a skilled Square of Air. I will leave it, and the other relics, in your care."

The king stood, and motioning to Jason, moved to the edge of the platform Wardes had launched from. He looked out over the side of Albion for a long moment before speaking. "There is one relic I cannot send with you. The White Isle itself may be Brimir's greatest gift to Halkegenia: The windstones at the core of Albion do not falter, but float eternally over Halkegenia.

"What do you know of Brimir?"

Jason blinked at the non-sequitur. "He's a famous holy man from long ago, from what I've gathered. Why?"

"The priests claim that they have gifts of the mind passed down from Brimir – that they may discern a true heart from a false one, that they may think with a clear mind unencumbered by distracting passions – but the scriptures say that God gave Brimir authority over all the world, and even over life and death.

"It is also written that the relics were given to Halkegenia by the hand of Brimir. I worry that Cromwell may have discovered some hidden mystery. If so, then the White Isle itself might obey his command.

"In any case, I leave you the relics that you may take with you, and charge you to preserve them for the sake of my son."

Jason nodded. "I can't compel fate, but . . . I'll try."

* * *

The departure was less of a hassle than Jason had expected. Kirche was half-drunk and half-asleep, but Tabitha herded her along easily enough that Jason was certain she'd done it before. Convincing Sylphid to wear the windstone harness was probably the most difficult part.

Jason felt a certain amount of trepidation as he saw just how many straps Tabitha was using to secure Kirche. "Will all that be necessary?" he wanted to know.

Tabitha pointed to the windstone harness. "It will be . . . turbulent."

He lifted an eyebrow, then double-checked the straps securing Wales and the chest of relics. When it came time to sit down, he tied himself down with as many straps as he could manage. Tabitha gave him a slight smile before strapping herself in. She cast a quick spell just before take-off.

"Alert me if you must vomit." Her voice was as soft as ever, but this time it sounded as if she was right beside him.

"Uh – is this spell of yours two-way?"

"Yes." She paused a moment. "It will deplete. Please don't speak unless you must."

* * *

The take-off hadn't been too bad. Sylphid soared through the sky while providing a completely smooth ride to the passengers. Right up until they hit some turbulence.

"Tabitha! I'm going to-" but there wasn't time to complete the sentence before he threw up. The feast from Newcastle revisited in all its multicolored glory as . . . as it veered off to the side before falling. When he was able to raise his head, he saw Tabitha had turned her head to watch him.

"Finished?" she asked.

Jason nodded, weakly. "I don't think there's anything left."

She nodded back. "Where do you want to take the body?"

Jason blinked. What was the plan again, back before life had become all about producing a remarkable quantity of puke? Oh, right-

"Louise should know the best abbey to take the prince's body to," Tabith prompted.

"No, no, I need you to take us to Headmaster Osmond."

She lifted an skeptical eyebrow.

He rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm up to something. No, I can't tell you what. I've got to keep my strategy secret for as long as possible."

Tabitha offered a faint smile. "You were given Albion's relics."

_Clever girl_. He smiled back. "I can neither confirm nor deny my custody of any ancient relics. I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of a plan to make Reconquista's victory as hollow as possible.

"I can confirm that my mistress thinks we're next on Reconquista's list, so I beg you, Tabitha, please do as I ask and take us to the headmaster."

She smiled a little wider, nodded, and turned back to watch the skies ahead of them. "Mid-dawn before we reach the academy. Try to sleep, if you can."

"Right." That reminded him, though – [Louise? How are you doing?]

[Jason? Wardes says we'll reach her Highness by dawn. How are you? Did anyone attack? He's worried about the possibility.]

[Not yet. We'll fill each other in when we get back to the Academy, alright?]

[Alright.]

* * *

**A/N:**

**Primus**: Poisons _don't_ all attack the stomach first – but if antidote potions are available, then effective poisons either have to kill the target before anyone can react, or target the digestive system quickly. If you want time to get away before the poison takes effect, you probably want the second option.

**Secundus**: Now, about the relics. Originally, there were the Founder's Rings and the four items – the mirror, the book, etc. They were designed to be used for one very specific, epic-tier spell.

It's been over 6 _thousand_ years since the days of Brimir. (Not 5K, I got corrected on that.) Anything connected to that time span is subject to AU influence, although I'm trying to stay within shouting distance. Not only have the original relics been lost to history, they take forms that modern Halkegenians wouldn't think of.

The relics that Jason has taken custody of were all created in the interval between Brimir and the present.

**Tertius**: So when is Void gonna come up? Again, time-span. People don't remember what Brimir could do as a lost branch of magic.

Why this particular bit of AU-ness? Well, if everything Brimir-related is well-remembered, everyone should have been shitting their pants when Louise summoned Saito. This fic leans rather more towards "lost in the sands of time" than canon.

In any event, I will note that element-based magic is not _quite_ the only magic practiced by Halkegenians. I intend to explore some possibilities as opportunities arise.

**Quartus**: The song that Jason gives to the Fool is "No Quarter", by Echo's Children. It's a revenge-lament about a purely fictional character, written shortly after David Weber's "Echoes of Honor" was published.


	26. Another Voice: Daybreak

**Daybreak:**

The clouds tried to creep in just before dawn.

He had to decide: Did he spend the mana to disperse them, or allow the fleet they cloaked to close in unobserved?

It was tempting to let it last, to let the Reconquista fleet think they had crept in close to a castle thrown into disarray by the assassination of Prince Wales. An ambush that is itself ambushed . . .

Unfortunately, that odd commoner retainer to Miss Vallière had made that impossible. His vengeful lament had had bite even in the odd style of whatever foreign tongue he'd learned it in, and the Fool had adapted it well. The enemy would not be tricked into thinking them panicked: Everyone who could sling spells or man the cannons was in place, and from up here the king could hear the continuous shouts denouncing the possibility of surrender or mercy.

_Is this what your people do, to avenge fallen nobility? A dozen bloody deaths arranged before a tomb like so many roses?_ He had no time to wonder about such savageries, however. King James cast his first spell, and the fog dropped out of the sky as every breeze around the castle vanished.

The enemy fleet stood revealed, ships drifting into disarray as they lost the wind that had allowed cloud and fleet to slowly close in. Their helmsmen would correct for the loss of wind soon enough, but the dispersal of the clouds was its own signal. The cannons of Newcastle remained silent, but the bulk of the mages set about trying to crash the _Lexington_.

They would not succeed. The _Lexington_ carried its own mages, and it was the pride of the Reconquista fleet. They would not permit their flagship to crash. Indeed, the helmsmen were already bringing their ships to full battle control, and their first maneuver was to create a protective ring of ships around their vaunted icon.

_Fools._

Every breeze had been stilled, but the banner of Albion flapped at full extension above the king. Was it a wasteful use of power? Perhaps. And yet . . .

The Tudor dynasty was still young, as dynasties go, but they had secured as much as they could of the relics and the lore of Air when they laid claim to the title of Blessed Realm. King James _was_ the Lord of Air, Brimir's own steward over the skies of Halkegenia, and the relics he'd sent off with the Vallière retainer were but one leg of his Throne.

Albion itself was another such leg, and the Tudors had studied its magic well. Newcastle was not merely a physical stronghold, but a place where the raw power of the massive foundational windstones of the White Isle gathered. The tower that he stood upon was carefully built to channel that power, but only for those who had been ordained to its use.

_Now, only myself and my son. Unless the Ring of Wind is taken from him, there will be no others for years to come. _His eyes narrowed as he considered the rebel fleet. He had considered calling up a hurricane, but the fleet was too small. Reconquista was holding back a reserve, and if he exhausted himself they would simply bring in the rest of the fleet afterwards.

Instead he pointed his wand at one of the leading ships of the oncoming fleet, and chanted the spell that he expected to make most frequent use of today. A tornado formed around that ship, and it dropped like a rock as the windstone helm lost its grasp over the air around it.

He was able to do it a second time before the fleet took notice, and he paused a moment, breathing heavily, to enjoy their panic. Three ships broke formation to race for the castle, but they had just covered half the distance when shouts rang out, and the hitherto-silent cannons of Newcastle roared as one.

"They seem disconsolate," came the voice of the Fool, coming up behind him. He hopped up on the wall and perched like a bird. "If I have ever made your heart gladden, oh my king, grant me that I may sing to them, and we shall see how Cromwell likes the lullabies of a Fool."

Commanding the typhoon would exhaust him, but to amplify a voice? Easy. The voice of the Fool raged out over the enemy fleet, mocking their cowardice and sneering at their worthiness (or lack thereof) to accompany Prince Wales to his place in paradise. It was not much harder to let his loyal men and women join as an amplified chorus, condemning the traitors to their ignominious deaths.

"Now are all made fools, perhaps," the Fool grinned as he finished, hopping down from the wall. "Five ships wrecked or crashed already – can it be that we will carry the day?"

"Not even if I had retained the Rod of Foudre. They have been twice surprised, and they will be cautious from now on. We may yet wreck half the remainder, but they will ultimately carry the day."

The Fool slumped a little, but nodded.

"You should find a place to hide. They seek to kill a king, not a king's fool."

The Fool grimaced. "Will they let a Fool live? Only if they cut out a foolish tongue that mocked them so this day."

King James smiled sadly. "I fear the madness of my son has infected you. But if a prince sought to be a fool, then maybe a Fool may prove himself a prince among men. Do you have a weapon?"

The Fool only grinned in response.

* * *

It was madness to approach in the face of the cannons of Newcastle, but it was death itself to wait for the king to force ships from the sky. So the ships charged in, their own guns blazing and their mages casting, braving the return cannon- and spell-fire to wear away at the defenders.

If there was any hope on the part of the defenders that they might yet win the day, it vanished with the arrival of Reconquista's reserve fleet. Towers and battlements slowly fell silent as the attackers grew bolder and the king weakened. Finally, the _Lexington_ itself made its approach.

King James bared his teeth in a parody of a grin. _We are all tired_, he thought. _Can you force yourselves to stay in the air if I seek to drag you down?_

The effort might well kill him, even if he succeeded. But it had been a good fight, and if it was his time, there were worse ways to go.

Once more, he called upon the very essence of Albion to buoy up his spells. If, in his exhaustion, that essence did not respond so strongly as it had when he was fresh, it might still be enough. He raised his wand, pointed, chanted-

And then an armored figure at the prow of the approaching _Lexington_ raised a sword in his right hand. The spell vanished, sucked away, and King James cut it off before it could drain him to death. Was this Cromwell, then?

The armored figure retreated from the prow, and soon a smaller vessel launched from the _Lexington_. The king recognized it as a royal longboat. They were rare, because it was a waste to install a windstone helm in such a small craft, but the richest nobles could sometimes afford the expense. As the king of Albion, he'd had several, although all had fallen into the hands of the rebels.

This one carried four people. The armored figure, a man in clerical dress, and two men armed with sword-wands. King James cast at the longboat, the armored figure brandished the sword again, and the spell was drained away again.

The two battle-mages leapt at the king, forcing him and the Fool to step back as his own guards met the attack. The duel between the guards was short and fierce, and in the end only one stood – one of the king's.

He moved to attack the armored figure, but before he could even cast a spell the figure raised his left hand, and the guard was flung off the tower.

"King James," the man in priestly garb said, "we were most _interested_ to hear of your son's death. Before we send you to join-"

A shot rang out from behind the king. The robed man gasped as dark red started to spread across his chest, and he crumpled without another word. The king turned to see the Fool brandishing a pair of pistols, one smoking. The Fool spat, and discharged the second pistol at the armored figure.

The ball hit the breastplate and dented it, but did not penetrate. The armored figure lunged forward and skewered the Fool, then whipped the sword back around in time to intercept the third spell that King James cast at the figure.

"Paw! Bloody again! Don't forget to clean me this time." The sword – _the sword?_ – spat again. "So that's, what, the fifth Cromwell down? Who will play him next week?"

"Silence, blade!" the figure said in a strong, female voice. The figure pushed back its faceplate to reveal what was indeed a woman's face. "King James Tudor of Albion. Why are you not using the Relics? What have you done with them?"

The king smiled and cast one last spell. The tower below them exploded, and he tensed for the short drop and-

An armored hand caught him by the throat before he could fall. As he started to choke, a distant part of him noted that they were somehow still in the air.

"No. I need your body intact, old man." The woman sheathed her sword and pulled out some sort of pendant. She placed in it against his forehead, and-

* * *

**A/N:**

The canon fall of Newcastle has Reconquista sending soldiers marching over the only land-based approach to the castle.

*headdesk*

They're on a floating island. They have, for their size, the best navy in Halkegenia. Air-mobile warfare is their specialty.


	27. Machinating I

**Machinating, Part I:**

The balcony outside the Headmaster's office was large enough for a griffon to land, if only barely. There was more than sufficient room for Tabitha to deposit Jason, Wales, and the chest. That accomplished, she flew off with the badly hung-over Kirche.

Jason slung the prince over his right shoulder and picked up the chest with his left hand. "Skinny-ass pretty-boy," he muttered. "You never had any trouble with the ladies, I'll bet. Sheesh. I swear this chest weighs more than you do."

By now both the Headmaster and the secretary inside had abandoned whatever paperwork they'd been attending to in favor of staring at Jason. Jason gave them an awkward little wave and tried to open the large glass window.

It was locked.

The Headmaster shook his head, then raised his hand and made a quick little gesture. The window opened, and Jason quickly entered the office.

"That's Prince Wales!" the secretary exclaimed in surprise. "He- why isn't he breathing?!"

"Not a bad plan, for removing the prince from danger," Headmaster Osmond allowed. "Of course you were granted the Mask as well, to revive him?"

_And if I don't have the Requiem Mask, this looks more like murder and less like rescue._

"I have it," Jason quickly responded. "That means you're a Square of Air, then?"

"Not just," the secretary muttered.

"Mmmmm." The Headmaster smiled and stroked his beard. "I find mastery of a single element all too limiting. So, where is your master, and why have you come to me? You seem adept enough at hiding people without _my_ help."

Jason couldn't help but flinch. "I, uh, I hope that wasn't a problem."

Osmond stopped smiling. "If it had been, I would have had to ship young Siesta off to that idiot when she re-surfaced. It ended well enough.

"Secret meetings with the Princess are more problematic, but she and young miss Vallière are childhood friends, and much can be excused with that.

"Here, however, is the heir to a doomed dynasty. What can you possibly have in mind?"

Jason winced. "Okay, um – look, I have to start with a short lecture."

The Headmaster raised an eyebrow – _are you serious_?

"Or maybe not. Um. Okay, you know how kings keep the nobility in check?"

"It can go both ways."

"Well, yeah. _If_ the nobles have a tradition of protecting their people. But that won't be the case in Albion. There we have a religious leader with secular ambitions, who recruited support by promising cadet nobility the estates of their titled relatives. We're talking about people who've been practicing conspiracy and treachery as a means of advancing themselves.

"Headmaster, I don't care if their motives are good or not. That won't matter. Each of the new nobles is going have ideas about how they, as individuals, can prosper in the new order. They're going to keep on conspiring with and against each other. Worse, a lot of them will be paranoid about their new tenants being loyal to the previous nobles.

"It's going to be a nest of vipers turning on each other, all in the next few years. You know, unless they can turn that outward, expand by conquering us and-"

The Headmaster held up his hand, and Jason shut up.

"Well-stated, under the circumstances. I believe that you are likely to be correct."

There was a sharp intake of breath from the secretary. Jason and Osmond both turned to look at her.

She had paled considerably. "Headmaster, I-"

"Miss Longueville, I declined to inquire after your family when I hired you, but do you have . . . an interest in Albion?"

She swallowed. "I would appreciate the use of an Academy messenger bird after my duties are finished today."

"Granted." The Headmaster turned back to Jason. "You are correct, but that is largely irrelevant. The Academy began as the Tower of Bothe at the height of the Romalian Empire. We predate both Albion _and_ Tristain. We have been neutral – we have _enforced_ our neutrality – since Romalia collapsed.

"My Academy does not exist to be a pawn in the Game of Thrones."

"The Academy doesn't, but most of its students are from Tristain."

"That is a matter of location alone. I do not deny a place to students of other nations, as you should know."

"Fair enough, but that doesn't mean you have to support Reconquista."

"And I don't."

"Would you agree that the best solution is to see this mess finished as quickly as possible?"

"Do you think you can do that with nothing more than an exiled prince?"

"If you're willing to turn a blind eye to what I'm doing, then maybe."

There was a long silence.

"Wake up the prince, and we shall see what I am willing to accept."

* * *

"Ugh . . ." Wales's eyes slowly opened.

"_Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain._" There was this trick where you put extra throat into what you were saying – for some reason people tended to pay more attention. "Welcome back to the living, Highness."

"I . . ." Wales slowly looked around the room. "Headmaster Osmond?"

"Just so. Welcome back to the Academy, Prince Wales."

"How-? We were . . . Newcastle . . . what-?"

"Do you recall, Highness, that you were poisoned?"

Wales slowly nodded.

"I had a technique to give you an antidote potion nonetheless. That saved my life for at least five minutes, and I bought the rest of it by promising to save _you_."

"If I was poisoned-"

"Then the rebels were almost certainly going to attack soon, to take advantage of any loss of morale. We got you out, and your father sent the more portable Relics of Air with you."

"_Did_ he?" the prince breathed out. He slowly got to his feet. "Is that why you haven't tried to open the chest?"

"Well, the Relics _are_ yours. I wouldn't like to explain to Louise why I robbed one of her childhood friends."

"Not you, Jason." Wales looked at Headmaster Osmond. "I know you can break any seal devised by magic."

Headmaster Osmond stroked his beard. "The Eternal Rings, it is written, were forged out of celestial platinum by the hand of Brimir himself. I know of no magic that will resist a broken-seal curse if the seal was set by one of the Rings, and your father would not have been gentle with thieves who sought this patrimony."

"No, he wouldn't have." Wales walked over to the chest, and opened it in much the same way as he had opened the box with Henrietta's love-letter. His eyes widened as he took in the contents. "He didn't hold back _anything_."

"_Indeed _not." Osmond had stood up, and moved slowly over to the box, stopping a respectful distance away. "Is that the _Auram Codex_?"

"The best copy we could find, yes."

"May I?"

"If you like." Wales shrugged and handed a large book to Osmond. "You can't read it without the Ring of Air."

"I could break the seal, given time, but I will not." Osmond reverently traced some design on the inside cover. "This is no copy, Prince Wales. This is one of the originals, bound in the gifted skin of a dying rhyme dragon." Osmond looked up from the book. "Young mister Jason here has been trying to argue for my tacit support in retaking Albion for you. I have been unconvinced, but for a copy of _this_, I will bargain."

Wales looked up sharply from his own examinations. "You have to be ordained to the Throne of Air to use many of those spells."

"But not all."

"They are part of my Throne."

"I am willing to keep them secret. The Academy houses many such forgotten secrets."

"That is . . . acceptable. We can negotiate."

"Excellent. Now, young Jason, why don't you tell us what you worked out with King James?"

Jason nodded. "Albion must attack Tristain before the wedding, before Tristain is united with Germania. I'm working with Mr. Colbert to try to make that harder for Albion. With better cannon and guns we can hopefully defeat their first assaults and then counter-assault.

"By then, if the Cromwell regime is as bad for Albion as I expect, we'll have had refugees coming in. Some of them will be willing to help take back their homeland. When we invade, you can unmask as the rightful heir of Albion. With enough momentum and popular support on our side, Cromwell will find that his supporters have become as shifting sand underfoot."

"Is that all?" Osmond seemed amused.

"Oh, no, it'll be hideously complex. We'll need her Highness's support to get this to work, and it'll depend upon getting evidence that Cromwell's supporters are more concerned with supporting themselves than supporting the regime, but . . .

"Look, it's nothing more than a possibility. But it _is_ possible."

"Perhaps it is." Wales tapped his chin. "It would be best for me to disappear for a while, certainly."

"Can you disguise yourself, like on the ship?"

"Why?"

Jason shrugged. "I was thinking you could take classes here, maybe study a different element for a while."

Osmond nodded. "That could be wise, and I believe I know just the method of disguise."

Wales raised an eyebrow. "The Mirror of Truth? I thought that didn't last beyond a single night."

"I have a spell that will allow you to maintain its effect. It will consume much of your mana, but you will be well-hidden."

"Um, what's the Mirror of Truth?"

"It's part of the Headmaster's own collection of Relics. It – you can take another form if you concentrate on it. He likes to bring it out for the students to use during the Sleipnir masquerade."

Both of Jason's eyebrows had shot up. "A nigh-unbreakable masquerade, then."

"Great fun for all, yes." The Headmaster's grin was disturbingly broad. "That reminds me, the Duke and Duchess Vallière are both pleased with their daughter's progress. They are even more pleased that your master has shown no fear of pregnancy."

_Um_. "So they aren't getting ready to have me killed?" It came out a bit higher-pitched than normal.

"_And_ they have declined to order you gelded."

_Urk!_ "To call that _good_ seems an understatement."

Osmond stopped smiling. "The Duke is protective of his youngest daughter, and to say that he was unhappy when he learned that the familiar ceremony prompted his little girl to kiss a man is _another_ understatement. But you have been a steadying and supportive influence on her, and by all credible reports you have been as respectful of her modesty and chastity as circumstances would allow."

"Ah. So, where does that leave me?"

"Certainly, a foreigner is not quite the same as a commoner. Nonetheless I suggest you endeavor to prove your worth, if you would continue to aspire."

". . . . Right."

"In the meantime, as I understand it from Mr. Colbert, Miss Vallière remains unable to go beyond the cantrips and universal Dots."

"I'm afraid so."

"It happens, from time to time, that a noble of impeccable lineage will have such a disability. Proximity of blood to the Lords of the elements seems to make it more common."

"And you think this has happened to Louise?"

"Perhaps. Miss Longueville, would you hand me the scroll that I asked you to retrieve the other day?"

The secretary quickly located the scroll and offered it to the Headmaster.

"This scroll teaches a spell that is an extension of the same cantrip that allows many of our magical conveniences to function. I would like Miss Vallière to attempt to learn it. If she is having trouble, she may ask Mr. Colbert for help."

"Oh. Uh, on behalf of Louise I thank you."

"And now, I need to confer with Prince Wales alone."

* * *

It was mid-morning, closer to lunch than breakfast, and Jason hadn't been able to sleep on the ride back to Tristain. Without any Mountain Dew on hand, or, hell, a simple cup of coffee, he was getting _sleepy_. Nonetheless he stopped in one of the courtyards and sat down for a moment.

[Louise? Are you awake?]

. . .

[Jason?]

[It's me, yeah.]

[I'm trying to take a nap before lunch.]

[Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.]

[No, it's fine. How are you?]

[Tabitha brought me back to the Academy. Newcastle – the final battle is probably happening right now.]

[That's what Wardes thinks – he's really angry at you right now.]

[He is? Why?]

[We were supposed to bring the letter back to Henrietta, not destroy it. It wasn't our decision to make.]

[You told her why I argued for it, right?]

[Yes, I did. She agrees it was the right thing to do, but she's not happy either.]

[I can't really blame her.]

[But she forgave us both, and she asked me to keep her company for a few days.]

[I wouldn't be surprised if she needs a shoulder to cry on. Don't hesitate to be her friend, Louise.]

[I won't.]

[And take care of yourself, little mistress. Oh, and when you come back, I have a surprise for you.]

[A surprise? What is it!]

[It's a surprise. But on a related note, the Headmaster says your parents are very pleased with your progress.]

[They . . . they are?]

[Of course. And we've only just begun, Louise. Get some rest, and enjoy your time with her Highness, because I think things are about to get busy.]

. . .

[I will.]

[See you when you get back.]

_And now, to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream._

* * *

**A/N: **Louise, remember, went off with Wardes to report back to Henrietta. (Give me a chapter or two and we'll see just how doubleplusungood that is.)** _  
_**

Now, what just happened? Jason walked into the Headmaster's office and tried to perform some geopolitical manipulation. Jason's an amateur at this, and lost control of the conversation almost immediately. He _did_ manage to convince Osmond to do what he wanted, but now he has a _very_ good reason to stay off the Headmaster's shit list.


	28. Machinating II

**Machinating, Part II:**

The comfort of his own air-mattress was first and foremost in his mind as he made his way up the tower to Louise's room. So it wasn't until he'd opened the door, gone in, closed the door, and turned to toss his saddlebags onto the table that he noticed Siesta lounging on her belly on Louise's bed.

Lounging on the bed, wearing one of his shirts – and by the way the fabric fell over her curves, nothing else – and apparently so wrapped up in one of her books that she hadn't noticed him come into the room.

_What the hell?_

He quietly walked over to the table. One of the chairs had Siesta's uniform on it, but the other was empty, so he sat down and set the saddlebags on the floor.

"Isn't this going to get you in trouble?" he finally asked.

Siesta twitched in surprise as he spoke, and looked up from the book. "You're back already? It's only been two days!"

"Yeah, busy days though. But seriously, don't you have stuff to be doing?"

Siesta shrugged. "Most of the students are gone for the summer, so there's not as much to do. The head maid knows that it's fine for me to spend time up here, as long as Miss Vallière doesn't mind."

"So you could afford to get so wrapped up in your book that you didn't hear me come in? Must be a good book."

"Mmmm-hmm!" Siesta grinned. "Wanna read it to us?"

". . . I thought I asked you not to play that trick on me again."

"It's not a trick! You _know_ what the book will be like, this time."

"Yeah, I guess. Anyway, another time. Louise is spending a few days with the Princess."

"Oh." Siesta pouted a bit. "You could read it just to me, then."

"I guess-"

_WAIT!_

_Huh?_

_When a girl is lying on your bed and pouting at you, what does that mean?_

_It's Louise's bed, and she didn't know we were going to show up today._

_She's wearing our shirt, it's still our bedroom, and when she heard Louise was nowhere near she still wanted us to read her porn._

_Oh. Oh, I – she has great legs. _

_And wonderful tits, and that pout gives her such kissable lips, and-_

_Are we drooling?_

_No. Not yet._

_But we're staring like a pole-axed ox._

_We gotta do something soon._

And he could see just exactly what. They'd lie on the bed together, he'd read aloud as Siesta snuggled in close like she had in her sleep, and when he was done they'd look at each other, faces flushed, and she'd smile that same happy smile she'd given him that one morning, but he wouldn't have to distract her with Louise, and-

_It should be Louise on that bed._

_Right. The duke's daughter, whose parents had to be talked out of _chopping our nuts off_. The most Siesta's family might be able to do is demand a shotgun wedding. And would that be so bad?_

_But, Louise-_

"Jason? Are you okay?"

He shook his head.

_We are too damned tired to figure this out right now._

"You are – that was the most dangerous thing I've heard all day, and Siesta, that's saying something."

"I'm not dangerous!"

_Bullshit_. "I – look, Siesta, I've been up all night. I need a nap. I want to talk to Mr. Colbert this afternoon, I need to catch at least a few hours of sleep."

She gave him another all-too-delicious-looking pout. "Oh, fine." Then the puppy eyes came out. "Could you at least promise to read a book for all the maids?"

"I- wha- why?"

"It's the latest, but the maid we sent to buy it says it's not as much fun as usual. So I thought that if you read it, that'd make up for it a little bit."

_Not as fun? Right, not as racy_. "Is that the one you're reading now?"

"No, I have it on the chair under my dress. I told them I'd ask you as soon as you came back."

"Right." He felt around and pulled out the book. _It's called _The Lady and the Dungeon_, and this _isn't_ supposed to be racy?_

He started flipping through the pages. Setup, pretty Tristainian noblewoman, kidnapped while traveling . . .

"Are you really reading that?"

"I'm just skimming through it – but, yes, I read pretty quickly." Enter the dungeon keeper, a nobleman of unnamed nation who nonetheless apparently looked quite a bit like . . . Kirche's brother . . . might . . .

He flipped back to the beginning, looking for a description of the kidnapped "Lady Anne". Ah, there it-

_That's a pretty accurate description of _Henrietta_. Hmmm . . ._

He flipped back towards the end. If this wasn't racy, Lady Anne probably got rescued or something – yep, there was the Albionian lord coming to rescue her, a slender, blond man with a musical tenor.

Prince Wales.

Jason shut the book. "Looks like the author is trying his hand at political commentary."

"I know. He needs to get back to writing the good stuff."

". . . Yeah. Okay, I'll read this to the maids, but can I get a favor in return?"

"Sure! What do you need?"

"Can you get a message to Scarron, your cousin's father? I . . . need to get in contact with the best minstrel he knows. A guy who gets everyone humming along with what he sings, even after he's left."

"Huh?"

"You know – the kind of guy who writes so cleverly that everyone keeps repeating his songs to themselves."

"Oh. Um, maybe you could help me write the letter?"

"Fine. Tomorrow? Maybe after I read this book to everyone?"

"That's fine! I'll get everyone together after we clean up from breakfast."

"Okay. And now I really do need to sleep."

"Wait! You didn't promise to read to me and Miss Vallière when she gets back!"

". . . Fine. But I get to pick the story."

"That's fine. I'll bring up a bunch of older books for you to look through."

"No, no, Siesta, this is going to be one of _mine_. That I brought with me."

"Oh!" Her eyes were wide. "Will it be _good_?"

"Maybe not in the way you're thinking, but it should be pretty funny."

"Well, if it's funny enough – why haven't you done this before? Or does Miss Vallière make you read only to her?"

"No, it's because my phone needs to be recharged after use, and I didn't want to use it too much – I need a typewriter, but I don't think you have them here . . . maybe I should ask Mr. Colbert . . ."

"Jason?"

"Yeah? Oh. Sorry. I really do need to get to sleep, Siesta."

"Is it okay if I stay and read some more?"

". . . Just keep quiet so I don't wake up, alright?"

* * *

He set the alarm to wake him a little before dinner. Long enough to wash up and then head over to eat with Mr. Colbert.

A good chunk of the lab was in ruins when he got there.

"Mr. Colbert? What happened here?"

Mr. Colbert chuckled ruefully. "With all the students gone, I had time to try mixing nitric acid with cotton, as you suggested. It exploded almost as soon as it finished drying."

"Are _you_ okay?"

"I took the precaution of shielding myself beforehand. The shield broke, but it left me almost unhurt. Minor bruising, that's all."

"Oh. I – I'm sorry."

Mr. Colbert waved it off. "You did warn me the stuff was unstable. I just wanted some idea of what it would be like. Nothing _too_ important was ruined.

"You came back faster than anyone expected. Did everything go well?"

"As well as could be hoped. Louise is spending a few days in the company of the Princess, but she'll be back soon."

"Good, good. I think I've figured out what was sticking in the revolvers, and I've got the first rifle ready to test. Would you like to try them tomorrow?"

"You didn't shoot the pistols yourself?"

"Oh, of course not. These are weapons for commoners, Jason. No one will be able to say you were incidental to their development."

"What?"

"You didn't know?" Mr. Colbert shook his head. "Your artifacts, the steel you told me how to make – the mages I involved expect to be rewarded heavily by the Crown for the wonders they're developing, but I've yet to hear of any credit going your way. It isn't right, and I refuse to do the same thing to you."

"Oh. And since this project is just the two of us-"

"I have the luxury of being able to uphold my principles without another mage having any business arguing with me."

"That's – thank you, Mr. Colbert. It turns out I'm going to need quite a bit if I'm going to, er-"

"If you wish to seek the hand of your master in marriage? I imagine so. Even a younger daughter of a duke is an impossible aspiration for a commoner."

"Yeah. You know I didn't know her father was a duke until this morning?"

"If she neglected to tell you herself, I'm not surprised. Children of noble upbringing have the heraldry and lineages of the major nobility memorized by the age of ten, and why bring it up without need afterwards? I imagine the only way you'd have found out without asking her directly is if you two had attended Frigg's Ball and heard them announce her."

"Or if I'd researched her name, but I've been busy for that."

"Indeed. If you're free this evening, want to help me clean up after we eat?"

"I'd love to."

* * *

Jason brought up the idea of the typewriter over dinner. Mr. Colbert thought it sounded like a fun challenge – and something that couldn't blow up on him.

It was while they were cleaning up that Jason brought up the matter of his "Germanian" heritage.

"-so, yeah, I don't think I resemble a darker-skinned redhead all _that_ much."

Mr. Colbert smiled. "Kirche got her red hair from her native Germanian heritage, but it's a complicated story."

"And scrubbing this soot will take me a couple of hours. Spill."

"Very well. The first part of it goes back to the Romalian Empire.

"Even at its height, the Empire did not control all of Halkegenia. After many of the Relics of Water were stolen, Romalia could not project naval force up the western coast without taking horrible losses. Therefore, in the north and the west, even when the Empire took territory all the way to the coast, the local settlements would simply take ship, live on the islands, and raid the coastline until they could take their towns back."

"Airships?"

"Windstones were not as common back then, and the Old Albionians refused to trade with Romalia after a failed invasion of the White Isle.

"Without regular tribute from newly-conquered provinces, Romalia slowly broke up, the provincars growing more and more independent of the Holy Throne. Finally a famine struck, and the empire collapsed entirely.

"The Germanians remained independent of Romalia, but they had adopted a system where each town would send a representative to vote on the warleader, who had ultimate authority to command the fight against Romalia. They continued this system, and over the centuries the position of elector became hereditary.

"The nobles of Germania sought to improve their bloodlines by uniting their blood with the rest of the mages of Halkegenia, but the commoners tended to keep to themselves.

"The Old Germanians – mostly commoners, by now – have brown eyes and curly brown hair like you do, but they tend to be short, wiry, and pale. So people may think you're Germanian, but they're more likely to think you're only half-Germanian."

"Oh. I guess that explains a lot. And Kirche?"

"Ah, Kirche. Now _that's_ a rather more grim tale.

"The last Crusade against the elves ended in disaster, like they all tend to do. We didn't know how bad the disaster was until they replied to the invasion."

"How'd they do that?"

"They found some humans from the East who were willing to invade and gave them passage."

"Oh."

"Oh, _indeed_. The Germanian king-elect lost all of his children to the Crusade, and died soon after he received the news. The prince-electors were still fighting over who would be the next king when the invasion happened.

"They fought well, I understand, but it wasn't enough. They couldn't unite before they were overrun. The invaders forcibly married into the Germanian nobility and prepared to overrun the rest of Halkegenia.

"They failed in that, at least. In the south, the Gallians used their prestige as the Blessed Realm of Fire to form an alliance, and in the west the Kings of the North banded together and were supported by Tristain and Albion.

"After the Easterners were too exhausted to fight anymore, the alliance of Tristain, Albion, and the petty kings collapsed, although Gallia was able to retain the allegiance of the petty kings and dukes in their alliance.

"For the last three generations, Germania has instead expanded through marriage alliances rather than conquest. In the face of that, Gallian League became one united nation, but we were unable to do the same.

"Vallière joined Tristain, by the way, because Louise's grandfather refused to contemplate bending his knee to the same overlord as the Zerbsts. Kirche is five-eighths Easterling, although her magic obviously has not suffered for it."

"Wow. And now her Highness is going to marry the Emperor's heir."

"Yes. Another example of the madness and cruelty of King Joseph of Gallia, that Tristain now prefers alliance with Germania instead."

* * *

It was that night, while Jason was trying to sleep again, that he remembered the Siesta dilemma.

_Tomorrow. I need a good night's sleep._

* * *

**A/N: **So Siesta is making progress on the Jason route.

Anyway, lots of exposition in this one – and a few Chekov's Guns. Next chapter, _more_ exposition. Yay!


	29. Another Voice: Reporting In

**Another Voice: Reporting In**

There were two figures in the room.

One was an old man, naked, eyes open and unseeing, skin gone cold and pale, lying spread-eagle on a circular stone table. The other was a woman wearing a loin-cloth and an amulet. Both table and woman were decorated with red and black symbols, abstract but quite disturbing.

For hours, the woman had been walking around the table, holding the amulet, and chanting in a language that had absolutely nothing to do with Albionian, Romalian, or any tongue commonly spoken by the humans of Halkegenia. Her legs trembled in exhaustion, but she maintained the sepulchral chant in a clear, steady voice until she reached the final verse.

As the final words, deep and hollow, left her throat, she stayed on her feet long enough to witness the slight shifting of the old man's face and the faint blue glow now coming from his eyes. Then she allowed herself to collapse.

* * *

The door opened, and an older man in clerical vestments hurried in. He winced at the sight of the woman crumpled on the ground, and quickly pulled off his own robe to cover her.

"All this for one man? It takes too much out of you, I fear. Let me find another to perform these rituals."

"_Are_ there any orcs living on Albion?" she rasped. "Only a grave-caller can perform valgdrar, and only I can command Hel's Reprieve without being ordained."

"Perhaps a tribe could be hired from the continent?"

She laughed bitterly. "No grave-caller could rest, knowing the amulet was found and in human hands. No, I'll not be relying on an army of draugr this year or the next."

She stood up, painfully, pulling the cloak around her. "What brings the mighty Cromwell to visit his lowly secretary? You have your own tasks to attend to."

He held out a scroll. "The twinned tablet became active this evening. I recorded everything the agent wrote down on this." Cromwell hesitated. "I mean no insult to you or your most holy master, but was this the best use of the tablet? It took so long to make, and to exhaust the magic in but a few short hours . . . perhaps waiting another day to receive a report would have been better?"

"No. The Relics of Air are missing, the prince's body is missing – I must know what happened before I wrest answers from the old king." She took the scroll. "But thank you for your concern. In your short time as Cromwell, you have been better support than any of the others."

She turned away, and muttered under her breath: "Certainly more than that cowardly fool we recruited when this began." Then, in a more normal voice: "Thank you. Return to your tasks. There is much to do and likely not enough time."

"Yes, Lady Myozunitonirun."

* * *

"Master, are you awake?"

There was no one in the room save her and the dead man on the table, but she spoke out loud anyway.

"Yes, Master, this is important. Wardes has reported in, and I have his words in my hands.

"Of course, master.

"'Most Honored Pater,

"'I confess I was startled to see this "twinned tablet" in my quarters this evening, but I understand the need for haste.

"'I can confidently report that Prince Wales is dead. I had to kill three servants to ensure the poison reached him, but I saw him consume the dish I prepared, and I lingered until I was certain there was no time left to consume an antidote.

"'As to my second task, I am convinced that the item Louise de La Vallière was sent to retrieve what we suspected. Unfortunately, I cannot be absolutely certain, as Prince Wales chose to destroy the item rather than risk it falling into unfriendly hands. That was an unfortunate and uncharacteristic act of cunning on his part, and I obviously cannot steal a destroyed letter.'"

The woman fell silent for a few moments.

"I agree, Master. He should have argued the prince out of it. May I go on?

"'As to my final task, I cannot confirm success or failure, merely offer my observations.'

"Or excuses. If he didn't succeed how did he not fail?

"Yes, of course, Master, I will continue.

"'Louise de La Vallière summoned, it is said, a fat commoner. So far, the gossip on this seems confined to the Academy itself. I have previously reported on what I learned during my earlier visit to the Academy, but now I will attempt to expand on that.

"'This "Jason" is not quite the pile of lard I had been given to expect. Yes, I had the opportunity to examine him closely, while treating saddle-sores from a long day of inexpert riding. While quite soft, he shows signs of better conditioning in recent days. I suspect he is one of those unfortunates upon whom a soft living deals harshly.

"'He is learned, and even clever, but he lacks skill with intrigue. Louise passed him off as her secretary-tutor, and he confirmed it, but he was ill at ease with that claim. Part of his claim involved plans to teach Louise strange knowledge I have never heard of, and – while I do not think there was ever any such plan, from the casual conviction of his voice I believe that Jason truly does know what he spoke of.

"'If that is the case, it is cause for concern, for one of the subjects he mentioned was an understanding of the laws that govern time. Time! And he offered it as an example of, not _trivial_ knowledge, but something commonly known among his people.

"'As to Louise herself, she claims that her element is Fire. Jason confirms that, although I believe he harbors private doubts.

"'In any event, I did not have enough evidence to determine if Louise is one of the Chosen of Brimir, or merely an unfortunate accident of aristocratic breeding. A fat scholar does not, I fear, correspond to any of the Litany of Divine Resonances. He _does_, however, possess unusual marks on the back of his left hand.

"'I arranged to goad them into revealing themselves, but my efforts were thwarted by outside factors. This is not my fault – I had to be subtle. There is no point in revealing myself to Louise if she is _not_ Chosen, after all.

"'In addition, Louise now leans on _him_ for support, rather than myself. I had planned to marry her on this trip, if all went well, but without confirmation of her as Chosen I do not think it would be worth the wrath of her parents to elope. Furthermore, I am not certain Louise would have agreed.

"'I humbly submit that we need to know more, and I believe I know just the way to go about it. I was warned, upon accepting my current post, that Louise and Her Royal Highness are prone to mischief when they spend time in each other's company. Let us take advantage:

"'If Prince Wales's body is missing, then perhaps it can be said that he _escaped_. Contact the Princess in his name, and draw both her and Louise out. I will permit them to succeed in whatever escape plan they devise, and we will be late enough in pursuing the errant young ladies that you will have ample time to collect them. Jason has not arrived at the palace, as I have been half-expecting all day, and so I believe he returned to the Academy, assuming he survived the chaos of a dead prince and an impending attack.

"'Once you have possession of them, we not only hold Tristain far ahead of schedule, we can study Louise at our leisure. If she is truly Chosen, then let Jason pine away and suffer the fate of all abandoned familiars, and in a year or two at most she will be ready for a familiar of _our_ choosing.'"

The woman skimmed the rest of the letter. "The remainder is meaningless pleasantries, Master."

She started pacing up and down. "Yes, it's a good plan, but - without Wales, without the Ring, if we want an authentic letter to the princess of Tristain we need the king to write it!"

She stopped, and looked closely at the dead man on the table. "Yes, the ritual was successful, Master. Yes, I can command him to this mission, but-"

She fell silent again for a few moments. "I cannot command him to give up his secrets _and_ perform this task. Not at once! Even with my Divine Commission, Hel's Reprieve is slow to submit to me. I have too much to do to devote my time to forcing one recalcitrant artifact to obedience."

Silence fell once again.

"Yes, master, if this Louise de La Vallière returns to the Academy the opportunity _will_ be lost." Another pause. "Yes, if this Jason _is_ Gandalfr, by the runes on his left hand, we do _not_ want to threaten the Vallière girl at the Academy."

Pause.

"I will make the arrangements, Master."

She let the robe fall from her body and walked over to the man on the table. Looking directly into his glowing eyes, she commanded: "King James Tudor of Albion, wake up!"

* * *

**A/N:** The original Cromwell, the one from canon? He's the cowardly fool Myozunitonirun mutters about in this chapter. He panicked and got himself killed a while back.


	30. Machinating III

**Machinating, Part III:**

**A/N: **I am not a gunsmith. Thanks to a hoplophobic parent, I don't even have Jason's level of gun-handling experience. If you know anything about gun manufacturing, there are probably cringe-inducing levels of error in this chapter.

Sorry about that.

* * *

The sun was already up by the time Jason woke up the next morning, but his legs weren't complaining and he felt fully rested. After the chaos of the last few days, that wasn't anything to sneer at.

But when he got up, he saw the empty bed where Louise had not slept that night, and a surge of longing and loneliness stabbed his heart.

_Right. Louise. Siesta. What the hell am I doing? _

_Louise and I – okay, we're master and familiar. Beyond that, what are we?_

_It's rather vague, isn't it? We've been _keeping_ it that way. If nothing is said out loud none of the complications have to be addressed. Yet._

_But, seriously, what is our relationship? What have we been building together?_

_Louise's focus has been on developing her magical potential, now that she can actually handle common spells. I've been . . . coaching her in that._

_Does that make me one of her teachers? Teacher-on-student is one of those _massive_ warning signs that you're jumping off the ethical precipice._

_But, technically, I'm not teaching her. I'm supporting her. Emotional support, mental support – those are legitimate boyfriend functions. _

_And she gets jealous if another woman seems to take an interest in me._

_But is any of what we feel for her real?_

_Because I can be pretty sure that my feelings of lust for Siesta are authentically _mine_. No familiar bond, just a very pretty young woman who seems to be interested right back at me._

_And Louise gets jealous. That would be a _big_ problem. I live here because she lives here. I'm housed, fed, and taken care of because of Louise. _

_If I were to take up with Siesta, would Louise kick me out? It's quite possible. Where would I live? Siesta sleeps in a dorm. I suppose I could apply to be a servant here, but – shit, that could go horribly wrong in _so_ many ways._

_When you get down to it, I'm a kept man. I need to develop independent resources before I can risk anything that would infuriate Louise._

_But I don't _want_ to infuriate Louise._

_I – I think I'm stuck until Louise gets married. Or until I get some status myself._

_If that happened, I could probably court Louise openly._

_If she's receptive to that. She's visiting her childhood friend and her childhood crush. There's no knowing what the renewed friendships could rekindle. I'm sure the royal palace has beautiful grounds where the three of them can walk, and talk, and admire the beautiful flowers and birdsong and suddenly I want Wardes to _rot and die_._

_Okay, this familiar bond is going to complicate things. _

Is_ it the familiar bond? Or is it the _result_ of the familiar bond? Because I haven't exactly been resisting its effects. Hell, I've been working on _developing_ them. From practicing how to ping each other, to codes, to mental texting – who knows _where_ we're going to end up?_

_No matter where I am, what I'm doing, who I'm with, Louise is no more than a thought away. Contrariwise, I'm no more than a thought away from her, no matter where she is, etc. Speaking of which._

[Louise? Are you awake?]

[Jason? I'm eating breakfast. What are you doing?]

[Just woke up.]

[Sounds like you're lazy if your master isn't around.]

[Hey! I didn't get any sleep that night when – wait, are you teasing me?]

He could practically _feel_ her smirking at him.

[Are you always this slow when you're waking up?]

[Bite me.]

[Oh, I will.]

[. . . Anyway, how are you girls doing?]

[Henrietta had a nightmare last night, but she insists she's doing fine this morning.]

[So do you have the day planned out?]

[She has to spend time with her tutors, then have a meeting with her mother and her ministers, but we're going to figure out something fun after luncheon.]

[Sounds . . . dull. The morning stuff, I mean.]

[Henrietta says it can be _very_ dull. I'll try to help her enjoy it more.]

[You do that. I guess I should head down to the kitchen and see if I can get some breakfast leftovers.]

[Don't get greedy – when I get back I'm making sure you stick to your proper diet.]

[Yeah, yeah . . .]

_If I'm _not_ going to end up with Louise, this developing habit of, well, casual psychic intimacy is going to be a problem._

* * *

Reading to the maids was amusing, in part because of how they wanted to argue with the book. Most of which had to do with Lady Anne not getting into _nearly_ enough trouble. But they seemed to enjoy it, and Jason's decision to use his best David Bowie impression for the Germanian villain was _disturbingly_ popular.

* * *

"Jason? Is something wrong?" Mr. Colbert was probably justified in his concern, since Jason had been changing his grip on the revolver for at least a minute.

"It . . . I'm trying to find a comfortable grip. And my left hand itches."

"Ah. Well, take your time."

He did. It finally paid off, with a grip that felt almost natural. The gun didn't _feel_ very accurate, but they were trying to jump from the 16th to the 19th century. If they didn't have problems along the way it'd be a miracle.

Hell, if he hit the target, it'd be a miracle. Yes, he'd had a retired cop as his church youth activities sponsor, but his university had a strict victim disarmament policy, so it had been almost five years since he'd had the opportunity to put lead through a target.

_I'm not even sure I'm remembering the gun safety rules right. I wish I could look them up._

He slowly squeezed the trigger, trying not to anticipate the shot . . .

A loud bang rang out, and a thick cloud of smoke erupted from the gun. More than Jason was expecting, and he bent over, coughing, as a stray wisp managed to reach him just as he breathed in.

"Jason?" Mr. Colbert was there, helping him straighten up.

"More" *cough* "more smoke than I expected."

"Are you _that_ unfamiliar with firearms?"

"No, it's – remember that 'smokeless' powder I told you about? I'm just not used to this much smoke from one shot."

"Ah." Mr. Colbert gestured downrange, where the target they'd set up nearby had a small hole near one edge. "You shot well enough, at any rate. Care to try again?"

"Sure." Jason re-cocked the revolver – figuring out the mechanisms for a single-action had turned out to be easier than getting a double-action working – and fired again. This time he was careful not to inhale any smoke, and as soon as the smoke cleared he fired again, and then three more times.

"I am _badly_ out of practice," he muttered, looking at the holes all over the target. And the back of his left hand was still itching.

"You did well enough," Mr. Colbert corrected. "Pistols are rarely accurate beyond a few paces. That is what the 'rifle' is for, isn't it?"

"Yeah, fair enough."

Mr. Colbert took the pistol from Jason and pulled out the revolving chambers. "I don't see any paper stuck inside these – it would seem that the waxed-paper cartridges burn away adequately."

"Yeah. I still don't like having the percussion cap separate."

Mr. Colbert raised an eyebrow. "Because that's an earlier design? Your mundane percussion caps can only be used once, so it makes sense to have them be part of each round. With these, it only makes sense to keep using them until the firestone component is exhausted."

"Yeah, yeah. I just wish we could figure out the mundane version."

"Experimenting with quicksilver is dangerous, Jason. Let us remove any other dangers first. Speaking of which, are you ready to try the rifle?"

"Might as well."

The rifle had been much more frustrating to work on than the pistols. They had not been able to get a magazine to work, and creating ammunition that would fit precisely enough had been tedious work for Mr. Colbert, with fewer than 10% of the rounds he'd crafted able to fit the rifle itself. Unlike the revolvers, which were, indeed, ready for field-testing, today's test with the rifle was merely to confirm that they were, in fact, moving in the right direction.

Jason spent quite a bit longer shifting his grip on the rifle. Getting ready to fire it felt . . . well, it felt a bit like holding a bomb in his arms and getting ready to set it off.

Finally, and after many odd looks from Mr. Colbert, he pulled the trigger.

PAIN! screamed along his left arm as the rifle exploded, and the world went dark.

* * *

"Jason? Are you awake now?" Mr. Colbert sounded very concerned, and he was looking directly into Jason's eyes.

Jason found that he was lying on the ground, and his left arm was very numb. "Mr. Colbert? What happened to the rifle?"

"I'm afraid the test was a failure. How do you feel? Do you see lights? Do you need to throw up?"

"I – I feel sore, and my arm is numb – what happened to it?"

"Ah. Well, you are rather lucky." Mr. Colbert helped Jason sit up. "Your fingers are dislocated, and so is your arm itself, but you didn't actually _lose_ any of them."

"Dislocated? Shouldn't that, uh, hurt? A lot?"

"Yes, but I cast a spell on you. Fire governs the nerves, and so deadening pain is easy enough for me."

Watching Mr. Colbert pop Jason's arm back into its socket, followed by his fingers, was extremely disturbing, but the spell ensured that he felt no pain, and afterwards he was able to move his fingers normally enough.

"The spell will wear off over the next few hours, and I'm afraid your hand will feel rather sore after that. Try not to abuse it."

"Right. What about the rifle?"

The rifle lay on the ground where Jason had tried to fire it, and Mr. Colbert used Levitate to pick it up and bring it close for inspection. It as still in one piece, technically, just twisted into a U-shape.

Jason bent over the bend, where a hole had blasted through the metal. "I think I see the bullet stuck in the barrel, just past the bend. I . . . I guess it got stuck, and the exploding powder blasted out through a weak spot?"

Mr. Colbert took a look for himself and nodded. "That seems to be the case, which is not particularly encouraging. You were very lucky that the rifle did not explode across your arm."

Jason flinched. "Yeah. When I was holding it I felt like I was holding a bomb in my arms."

"Is that why you took so long to fire?"

"I was trying to find a way to hold it that felt safe."

"You survived mostly unscathed, so I believe you succeeded in that. Do you have any ideas on what went wrong with the rifle?"

Jason shrugged. "Lack of precision, maybe? I mean, by the time we were doing this back home we'd been using machine-driven power for manufacturing for a while. I couldn't tell you what the difference between that and Halkegenian magic is."

"Without a specific spell, shaping metal is as precise as I am able to command it to be."

Jason grimaced. "Yeah, so I've seen. And it's really neat, but it looks like it may not be precise enough. Same problem as with the bullets." He thought a moment. "_Can_ you invent a spell that shapes metal more precisely?"

"If I can describe the shape well enough."

"Oh, that shouldn't – well, hmmm . . ."

"Jason?"

Jason shook his head. "I need to study your math system, figure out how hard it'll be to teach you the basics of geometry and calculus."

Mr. Colbert looked puzzled. "Our math system?"

"Yeah, a hollow tube isn't all that hard to describe mathematically."

"Math doesn't normally matter so much in spell design."

"It doesn't? I . . . I need to do some more studying, I think."

"Perhaps. In the meantime, do you have any ideas?"

"I . . . okay, we got the revolver idea to work. We can improve on that. In the meantime – waxed paper is stiff enough that we can – okay, let's not worry about rifles for now. We want to focus on shotguns."

"But you said rifles were more accurate?"

"They are, but – look, one big difference is that shotgun ammunition doesn't have to be in a metal cartridge. All the shotguns my Dad issued to his employees used plastic, instead."

"Like the comb you provided?"

"Yeah, but the thing is, plastic is pretty new. I'll bet a paper cartridge would work just fine."

"And then we are simply back to something barely better than a regular musket."

"No, it gives us a chance to figure out how to make a repeater work without necessarily blowing up the gun every time we fire it."

Mr. Colbert thought about it for a minute. "That is probably correct. In the meantime, your arm is probably going to start hurting soon, so I recommend that you rest the remainder of this afternoon. Study, if you like."

"Sounds good."

"That said, in anticipation of a successful test I had a harness made up for you."

"A-" but Mr. Colbert was already pulling out a mess of leather cords. It didn't take long to untangle, and he held it out for Jason to inspect.

"I have seen something similar worn by slum bravos, trying to wear as many pistols as they could carry. I always thought it was insane to carry so many primed pistols, but you could load your revolvers and they would still not discharge until you cocked them."

Jason took the harness and tried it on, tying the front together across his chest. "There're loops for eight revolvers. Have you _made_ that many?"

"No, just these two." Mr. Colbert showed Jason how to 'holster' the pistols into the harness. "But I will make more soon. Today, you should try to get used to the feel of wearing the harness." He stepped back and looked Jason over. "And you should begin wearing an overcoat, I think. A pistol harness is the apparel of a ruffian, and it will be until you are able to make an impression in the Imperial Court."

"Oh. Yeah." Because if Jason's name was going to be at the top of this, he'd better be able to show off. "I'm going to have to practice."

"Indeed." Mr. Colbert handed him a slim box, and showed him where to secure _that_ to the harness as well. "Nine dozen rounds, and the box has a basic ward against fire. I expect you to use them all in practice tomorrow."

"Right. Um – what about the revolvers? I mean, if a Fire mage could set off the loaded rounds . . ."

"The cylinder in each revolver has a ward against magical fire. A Triangle might be able to break through it if he knew what to focus on, however."

"Can you improve on that?"

"Given time, yes. For now, it should suffice to prevent accidents, or even petty sabotage from jealous students."

"Okay." Jason grimaced and shook his left hand as the arm twinged. "I think that spell is starting to wear off, so I'm going to head up to Louise's room and rest."

* * *

He had not even made it across the courtyard when:

[Jason! You'll never believe this!]

[Louise? What's going on?]

[We got a letter from Wales! He survived, and now he wants to meet Henrietta!]

[He – he WHAT?!]

[I know, it's unbelievable, but Henrietta used her ring to confirm that the letter is authentic.]

[Oh. Well, that's – that's very good.]

[It's wonderful!]

[Yeah. Hey, Louise, I'm about to be very busy. Can I call you back in a little bit?]

[Of course.]

[Thanks. Talk to you later.]

_Right. First thing_ – Jason started running – _we get Osmond to tell us where Wales went._

_Then we pistol-whip the moronic little shit until he's bleeding teeth!_


	31. Machinating IV

**Machinating: Part IV**

"Where is he!" Jason snarled as soon as he entered the office – where the secretary blinked doubtfully at him and the Headmaster was nowhere to be seen.

"Headmaster Osmond is in his chambers. For your own sake, don't go in there."

"Uh . . ." What could the Headmaster – none of his business, really. "That's fine. I need to talk to Wales, actually, not the Headmaster."

"Oh." She winced. "He's also in there. You still don't want to go in."

"Right. High-level negotiations, worth my life to hear them, huh?"

She winced harder. "It won't kill you, uh- what is your name again?"

"I'm Jason, Miss Longville."

"It's Longueville. Jason. It won't kill you, you'll just wish it had."

Jason lifted an eyebrow. "Now you've made me curious. Just what is going on in there?"

Miss Longueville shook her head, shuddered, and pointed at one of the doors. "See for yourself, if you must. But you don't want to. You really don't."

"Okay, now I _have_ to see what's in there." _How bad can it be? It's not like they have the internet around here._ Jason turned to the door, then turned back. "Were you able to send off that warning to your family? Have you heard back from them at all?"

Miss Longueville's face became guarded. "I haven't heard back, no, but I hope to within a few days."

"Right. Um, is there any way we can get them out of Albion?"

_Very_ guarded. "Probably not. They'll be safe enough if they keep their heads down."

"Okay. Um, I'll point out that I seem to be rubbing elbows with some very high nobility. If things change for the worse over there I should be able to at least help you beg for aid."

Miss Longueville looked surprised. "I didn't know you cared that much."

"Hey, a violent revolution – not just a secession, but actual revolution - the likely murder of the legitimate sovereign, everyone in power with practice in conspiracy and treachery . . . I wouldn't wish having to live under that on _anyone_. By what I know of history, if Wales doesn't show up and retake his crown it could take 3 generations or more before sanity is restored."

Her eyes had shot up. "This happened to your people?"

"It happened to a lot of our neighbors. Our own attempts at revolt are usually less about killing the ones in charge and more about breaking off to form a new nation."

". . . I see."

Jason grinned. "You don't, though. I'm keeping it very, very simple – I've got to go _talk_ to Wales, I don't have time to lecture. But, seriously, if you need help, ask."

He made it through the door without any further distraction – then stopped short in confusion and just a bit of horrified suspicion.

A short, olive-skinned boy was standing in front of an ornate mirror, frowning at his reflection. Beside him, a woman stood, pointing a wand at him. She was taller, equally olive-skinned, and curvy to the point of bursting out of the student uniform she was wearing.

Jason opened his mouth just as the both of them turned to regard him. "One of you is the Headmaster, right?" The boy cringed as the woman grinned broadly. "Yeah, that's what I was afraid of. Must . . . cleanse . . . thinky-thing . . . with . . . FIRE!"

The woman burst out laughing, her musical tones shifting down to the Headmaster's elderly baritone as he resumed his normal appearance. "The Mirror can reflect many truths. Don't be too eager to reject them out of shock."

"Well said. Very pious. And the possibility of, oh, bathing with nubile young noblewomen has absolutely _nothing_ to do with it."

The Headmaster . . . smirked. "The students here are ignorant, shy, or too aware of the dignities of their station and families. If one seeks a diverting afternoon, join the _maids_ in _their_ bathing."

"That makes –" _Must not be distracted by shiny!_ "Okay, that's not important. Wales, that's your new face?"

"That's right." It came out deeper, raspier, a little less precise.

Headmaster Osmond nodded. "Meet Josephas Ryise. He's a young Romalian from the coasts, who grew up all his life on his family's terrace-farms, harvesting the exotic southern fruits. Even though no mage has been sired in 3 generations, he and his relatives cling to their family pride as an inexprimé house. Recently, however, during a bad storm, he broke through and used instinctive earth magic to reinforce a terrace and save the crop.

"He doesn't show much potential, but his family has set aside a small fortune over the years as a sign of faith that the next mage would come eventually, and they want nothing but the best possible training for the hope of the family."

Jason nodded. "So, you're training as, what, a new Dot of Earth?"

"I'll likely never get _beyond_ Dot, with my Air affinity," Wales rasped. "But the Headmaster says that's expected for an inexprimé scion."

"Of course, we're not finished." Headmaster Osmond shook his head. "You're too thin. Either imagine yourself stouter, or try it out as a girl."

"_Huh__?_" Because even if he was here to chew Wales out, this was just too fascinating to ignore.

Wales hunched down. "This is too close to my real form." He paused, then burst out: "How do you _handle _it?! If I make myself bigger, I start crashing into everything!"

Jason rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, that part sucks. You have to move slowly and carefully, and make sure there's enough room to move around in. If you have to move fast, accept that you risk a trail of destruction in your wake."

"Oh." Pause. "Like an avalanche. I _hate_ being Earth."

"All I can say, is try to think of it as a learning experience." _Wait a second_ – "Back up. Too thin? _Try it as a girl?_ What the hell?"

Wales flushed, and glared at Osmond.

Who grinned. Again. "Using the Mirror of Truth, playing with the possibilities in your heart and mind – this can be done for a night, with no consequence beyond who you might wake up next to the following morning."

"The following – oh, you use this for a Ball, you said." Jason blinked. "Okay, just how many students actually go transgender that night?"

"Not _that_ many," Wales snapped. "But if you take the form of a hero and can play the part you can attract the attentions of people who'd never give you the time of day otherwise."

"Hey, no need to – wait, did that happen to _you__?_" _Don't laugh. Don't even smirk._

Wales scowled. "She was pretending to be the _Heavy Wind_! I had no idea she was – never mind. Headmaster, _please_ continue."

"As I said, for a single night, there is no consequence. But a guise maintained day in and day out, on a body that is still growing, even if only a little . . ."

Jason nodded. "We don't stop growing until our mid-twenties. A Mirror-form can warp that?"

"If it is too close to the original, the sympathy between forms can draw them together." The Headmaster paused. "I have even allowed this to be done deliberately, a few times, under careful supervision. I know the spells to monitor the process."

"Right, but we don't want to warp Wales, he needs to be recognizable. So, the choice is stout or girl-bits." Jason shrugged. "Just how badly _do_ you want to remain lissome while in hiding, your Highness?"

"I love the company of women, but I don't want to _be_ one. The headaches, the cramps . . ."

"There _are_ potions to ensure gentle monthlies," Osmond pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'll bet there'd be other stuff, like of aggressive attention from the likes of Guiche. Wouldn't they see the daughter of a – what's the word?"

"_Inexprimé_."

"Yeah, that. An inexprimé house. Wouldn't they see her as easy sport?"

Headmaster Osmond frowned. "The young de Gramont has other concerns at the moment, but he is not the only one. Still, you would be under my protection."

Wales looked queasy. "I'll try being stout."

"Very well. And with that decided, what brings you here, Jason? Surely not a chance to see the Mirror in action – or did you wish to try it yourself?"

"_Can_ I? It doesn't need a mage?"

"I believe that as a familiar, you may have sufficient magic through the bond with your master, and the Mirror does not even require a cantrip to activate. It would be an interesting experiment."

"I – _later_." Because geeking out over the first Sufficiently Advanced Magic he'd seen – well, maybe second, there _were_ the airships – was one thing, but he had a job to do. "Okay, Wales, what the _hell_ were you thinking!?"

"What was I – what the hell are _you_ talking about!?"

"The letter to Henrietta! We went over this, she's _bad_ at keeping secrets, she doesn't need to _know_ this!"

"Know this – know _what_!? _What_ letter?!"

"The letter you _sent_ her!"

Wales whipped out his wand, and Jason was pushed back against the wall. "_I didn't send her a letter you disrespectful _idiot!" he roared as the winds raged. "_What the hell are you on ab_-!?"

Then the Headmaster had a calming hand on the prince's wand, and the winds died down. "Calmly, your Highness." Osmond gave Jason a steady look. "You should know, Jason, that Prince Wales agonized about whether or not he should contact her Highness. We decided it was not wise, in the end. Now what are you talking about?"

"That –" Jason panted a bit as he came down off the adrenaline. "Louise contacted me, told me Henrietta got a letter from you."

"Not from me."

"Louise says Henrietta used her ring to confirm it."

"Her ring-?" Wales paled and sagged. "My father passed the ring onto me, but he's still ordained to Air. He's the only other one who could write a letter and seal it as a Lord of Air."

"So . . . he's alive?"

"Then he was surely captured, and – they'll have tortured my father!"

"Unless he escaped, maybe?"

"I – it could be. Give me the letter Louise sent you."

"Oh, she didn't send a letter. Just a second."

[Louise?]

[Jason? What's up?]

[Who exactly is the letter from? Wales, or his father, or did it say?]

[Um . . .]

. . .

[Henrietta says it's from Wales. He told her to meet him at one of the secret places they used to use.]

"She says it's from Wales, and they're going to one of your secret rendezvous spots. Naughty, naughty, by the way."

Wales flushed. "I never violated her."

"You have – had – older brothers. _Tell_ me you didn't learn from their youthful misadventures, I _dare_ you. That's the sort of thing older brothers _brag_ about when parents aren't around."

Wales flushed deeper. "_Not_ your business," he snapped. "If my father were to send a letter of his own will, it would be to myself. Or perhaps you, Jason, since he was willing to conspire with you. He would not feign himself to Henrietta in such a way."

"So, trap. Shit, shit, SHIT!"

"Indeed. I shudder to think of either of them in the hands of Reconquista. I . . . I must be off quickly, there's no time-"

"Wales, you probably shouldn't go. Henrietta doesn't need-"

"THAT IS NOT YOUR DECISION TO MAKE!" Wales shouted.

"Calmly, young prince." Osmond turned to Jason. "But he is correct. You lack rank, young familiar. You may counsel, you may advise – but a prince is not to be gainsaid, save only by his monarch."

"And I'm the only one who knows where they're going," Wales nodded. "There's only one rendezvous Father knows about – he was the one who told me about it in the first place. That's where the ambush will be."

"Yeah. Hang on."

[Louise, I'm concerned. Is there any way you can wait on this? What if it's a trap?]

[Not now, Jason. We just gave Wardes the slip, I need to focus.]

"Bloody hell, they're already heading out, and they just managed to sneak by Henrietta's bodyguards."

Wales resumed his original form. "Then there's no time. Headmaster, can I borrow a gryphon? That may be fast enough."

Headmaster Osmond nodded, and cast a spell. "One should arrive soon."

"Are they that fast? It took one all day to go about sixty miles."

"Was in on foot? In flight they're much faster, especially with my spells to bolster them." Wales walked over to his chest and opened it, pulling out an elaborate rod. "I think I can give them a most unpleasant surprise with this. Headmaster, Jason, I hope to deliver Louise here safe and sound shortly."

"Wait." Jason straightened up. "Can a gryphon fly with two?"

"Yes – why do you suppose you'd be any use?"

"Okay, first – one of us in the room has a familiar link that allows master and familiar to talk to each other, no matter the distance. Wales, that ain't you."

Osmond raised an eyebrow. "You are able to _fully_ talk to each other?"

"Yeah. It's taken some work to develop it that far, but yeah. Besides, I'm armed now."

"A mere pair of pistols might break through a single mage's shield."

"Yeah, but these are _revolvers_. Six shots _each_ before I have to reload."

Wales blinked. "Twelve shots? You might not be useless after all."

". . . _Thanks_. Anyway – Headmaster, I'd like some redundancy. Is there a spell that'll . . . I dunno, make a familiar seek out its master?"

Osmond frowned and stroked his beard. "Has Louise been able to summon you to her side?"

"Not that we've noticed."

"I have such a spell, but . . . if you have not already awakened such as a power . . . when performed on an unready familiar, it seems to almost shatter the spirit of the familiar."

"Oh. Uh, that's not acceptable."

"I imagine not. But if your master is taken prisoner, have her call you in her dire need, and I believe you may find yourself able to answer."

"Right. Um, if we can't do that, is there anything you can lend me? Weapons made for commoners to use?"

"Most of what I have stored in the Vault is for a mage, but allow me to think a moment . . ."

"Anything that can be used at range would be great."

Wales rolled his eyes. "Only at range?"

"Hey, I'm a scholar, not a warrior!" _Too bad it was my cousin who was big into ARMA._

"How about both?" They turned to Osmond, to see him holding a sword in one hand and a peculiar dagger in the other.

Wales gaped. "Where did you get those from?"

Osmond grinned very broadly. "I am keyed to the Vault, and the Academy houses many secrets."

"Yes, but – is that _Butterfly_?!"

"Butterfly?"

Osmond held up the dagger. "You wish for range? Throw this dagger and it will return when you call for it."

"And just _when_ and _where_ did you acquire-"

"The Academy houses _many secrets_, Prince Wales."

"_That_ secret belongs to Air!"

"Be that as it may." Osmond offered dagger and sword to Jason. "The sword has no name – it is nothing more than a failed experiment, an attempt to forge a blade that feels light as air but strikes with the force of a hammer."

Jason hefted both weapons. "Well, the sword _does_ feel lighter than the dagger."

"The balance must be relearned by any swordsman who wishes to use it, and it was too difficult to forge in the first place. But you may find it helpful if you are forced into melee."

"Gonna try to avoid that. So what are we likely to face?"

"Traitors of Albion," Wales snarled. "Mages of Air, most likely. Whatever they can spare."

"Okay. Um, how does Air fight on the ground? Can they pick me up and drop me?"

"Not easily. Not without a storm to draw fierce winds from. But – harsh gusts to buffet us, shouts to deafen and stun. If they bring _skilled_ mages, compressed air to hammer you with, or even a vacuum blade."

"Sounds nasty."

"Yes. I can stop the effects of the shouts, there's an easy spell for that. As for the rest . . . I have a Zephyr's Kiss for myself," Wales bent over his chest and pulled out a cloak, long, thin, silken gray, "but – this will be dangerous for you, Jason. Strike fast, strike hard, and pray to Brimir for good fortune."

"Good protection would also not go amiss," Osmond said, this time with an identical cloak in his arms to offer to Jason. "That's the Fifth Kiss, am I correct? I hadn't known the Throne of Air ever found one."

Wales looked over to Osmond's cloak in disbelief. "Is that the Sixth? How-? I don't want to know, do I?"

"Perhaps not." Osmond showed Jason how to don the cloak, strap the sword across his back, raise the veil to protect his face, and secure the dagger to one of the empty pistol-loops. "The Academy has been collecting Relics since before the Empire fell. We have very detailed accounts of the War of Seven."

"The Sixth took refuge here, didn't he?" Wales shook his head. "Unless you have anything else to offer, we should be going. Is that gryphon here?"

"Most likely."

* * *

Jason pinged Louise for updates as he and Wales flew through the twilight skies, but he didn't want to admit that Wales was alive and safe by his hands – after all, why hadn't he reported such already? Without anything concrete to tell her, all he managed to do was annoy Louise with his 'paranoia', until at last she grew evasive and impatient. Eventually she refused to respond, but by then he'd at least been able to confirm where she and Henrietta were going.

* * *

[Jason?]

[Yes? Louise, I'm sorry, I didn't-]

[Jason, something's wrong. It's not Prince Wales, here, it's King James, but he looks so pale, and Henrietta . . .]

[Henrietta what? What's going on?]

[She looks . . . his eyes . . . fireflies . . . blue . . .]

"Wales, something's wrong – they're already there, get us to them now!"

"We're almost there. Get ready!"

"I am!"

* * *

Awareness(violence-to-occur).

Awareness(weapons-in-reach).

Retrieving Mode Favorite(Serenity-At-The-Eye-Of-The-Storm).!Error

Mode Favorite incapacitated(Capability-Vestigial).

Checking connections(new-host-detected).

Trigger(FIGHTING-SPIRIT).!Fail

Trigger(the-enemy's-gate-is-down).!Fail

Trigger(hate-world-all-die).!Fail

Trigger(from-hell's-heart-I-stab-at-thee).!Fail

Trigger(perfection-concentration-pinnacle).!Fail

Trigger(heart-protective).

Link(awareness).

Link(physical augment).!Fail

Unready(unready(unready(unready))).

Fallback(respiration).!Priming

Fallback(metabolism).!Priming

Fallback(gland-adrenal).!Priming

Fallback(instinct-panic-reaction(Flight)).!Disabling

Fallback(instinct-panic-reaction(Bluff)).!Disabling

Fallback(instinct-panic-reaction(Submit)).!Disabling

Fallback(instinct-panic-reaction(Fight)).!Priming

Awaiting(hand-to-weapon).

* * *

**A/N:** So, Jason fails at being **_Kamina_** (hot-blooded fighting spirit), **_Ender Wiggin_** (precise, ruthless, _deliberate_ viciousness), **_Shinji-as-godhead_** (omnicidal nihilistic despair), or even **_Captain Ahab_** (willing to die for one last attempt at the foe, and this is what Saito was running on when he picked up the sword), and of course he lacks the battle focus of a trained warrior (which I'll bet Sasha had).

He does, however, know the Star Spangled Banner. By heart.

All four verses.


	32. Machinating V

**Machinating, Part V:**

"How many are there?!"

"Louise isn't responding, it's like they did something-"

_If I already have a self-aware mind, maybe I have to be asleep or in a trance for you to-_

The memory flashed through his head as fast as anything ever had.

"Wales! I'm going to try something, don't land until I speak up."

"Wha-"

Jason took a deep breath, and called out to Louise one more time. When she didn't answer, he pushed. Like they'd first practiced, before they'd invented codes and psychic morse and mental texting.

He pushed _hard_.

He blinked – it seemed like he was blinking two sets of eyes – and everything went very hazy. Like seeing the world through a veil, or a waterfall. Or a drunken daze.

He couldn't seem to turn his head, but there was Henrietta just a bit ahead of him, and then some men he didn't recognize, and then in front a very pale figure who _might_ be King James.

_It worked! We did it!_

_Jason?_

[Louise? Can you hear me?]

_The king is back. Isn't he nice? He's going to take us away and we'll never have to worry about anything_

[LOUISE!]

_Soon Henrietta will be with Wales, and then I'll find my true love, so tall and strong and kind, and he'll hold me and together we'll_

[LOUISE! WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!]

_. . ._

[Louise? I need you to wake up. Please? Please wake up."]

["Jason?"]

Wait – he could hear her!

["You're awake? Tell me you're awake."]

["I – we were going to meet Prince Wales, and – am I walking?"]

["You're beguiled. Some trick of the enemy."]

["I can't stop walking! I – did you get captured too? You weren't with us!"]

["No, I'm coming to rescue you. I'll be there soon."]

["But I can hear you!"]

["Yeah. I think we broke-"]

Something shook his shoulder, and this time he was able to look around – at Wales's face, concerned.

"They're gone already!" Wales gestured around at the empty clearing. "Following on foot, tracking them in the dusk and moonlight, would be too" ["Jason, you think we broke _what_?"] "slow, and we could overfly them if we go above the trees. Can you tell me where they are?"

"One second, Wales. Louise was bedazzled, I just got through to her." ["I think we broke through to the same level Tabitha and Sylphid have – unless a dragon can read."]

["Is Sylphid that smart?"]

["Apparently. Louise, I'm coming for you, but you have to do something for me."]

["What?"]

["Call me."]

["_What_?"]

["Summon me. I need to be able to find you."]

["I - _how_?"]

["My lady. My mistress. You called me to you once, in the beginning, before ever we knew one another. In this darkest hour, in this your direst need, _call me_. Call me to your side. Now!"]

["I . . . Jason. Come here. Come here NOW!"]

It was like a knot in his mind eased, one that he hadn't ever realized was there, and he could feel the pull. The summons.

"They're that way," he reported to Wales, pointing. "Louise was able to call me, like the Headmaster suggested. They can't be too far."

Wales did something with the reins, and the gryphon took off once more. "Whatever they're leaving on, it'll be far enough away that Henrietta and Louise had no chance of noticing before they were captured. We may have time. Does Louise know what they're heading for?"

["Louise? They're probably going to have something to take you away on. Have you heard anything?"]

["I don't – they haven't said anything since I woke up, but . . . I think I . . . was dreaming of dragons . . . flying us to Albion."]

["Alright, good enough for me."]

"Wind dragons, she thinks. But she's not certain – it's something she may have picked up while she was still bedazzled."

"Wind dragons? That is – Jason, we can't face wind dragons on the ground!"

"So what are we going to do?!"

"I'll deal with the dragons, but if they're close – I'm going to drop you off, you'll have to delay the kidnappers while I deal with their mounts."

"By _myself_? _Drop_?!"

"The Zephyr's Kiss will protect you from the fall. As for the other – Jason, you may only be a scholar, but if you have any heathen gods of battle you are known to, I suggest you call on them!"

"I-" Jason's mind went completely blank for a moment, and then words spilled from his lips:

"The earth is full of anger, the seas are dark with wrath,  
The nations in their harness go up against our path:  
Yet ere we loose the legions - yet ere we draw the blade,  
Jehovah of the Thunders, Lord God of Battles, aid!"

The poem came faster than he could consciously recall, he could feel himself gasping for air as the words tumbled forth beyond the speed of thought.

"High lust and froward bearing, proud heart, rebellious brow -  
Deaf ear and soul uncaring, we seek Thy mercy now!  
The sinner that forswore Thee, the fool that passed Thee by,  
Our times are known before Thee - Lord, grant us strength to die!"

Nonetheless, he knew he had it perfect.

"From panic, pride, and terror, revenge that knows no rein -  
Light haste and lawless error, protect us yet again,  
Cloak Thou our undeserving, make firm the shuddering breath,  
In silence and unswerving, to taste Thy lesser death."

And if his heart was beating fast enough to jump out of his chest, that was fine.

"Even now their vanguard gathers, even now we face the fray -  
As Thou didst help our fathers, help Thou our host to-day.  
Fulfilled of signs and wonders, in life, in death made clear -  
JEHOVAH OF THE THUNDERS, LORD GOD OF BATTLES, HEAR!"

He finished Kipling's _Hymn Before Action_ screaming, and as it died away he could hear Wales laughing.

"A battle-god of storm and thunder? If we survive this you _must_ tell me of him!" Wales stopped laughing. "How close are we?"

Jason pointed. His arm was not quite vertical. Not _quite_.

Wales banked just enough to aim directly ahead of them. He quickly chanted, and Jason felt a very slight pressure in his ears. "Get your pistols ready! I'm releasing you in 3 . . 2 . . 1-!"

Jason was off the gryphon before he realized it. There was a moment of panic before he could tell that he _wasn't_ in free-fall – the Zephyr's Kiss _was_ slowing him – and then his hands found the revolvers underneath the cloak.

His breathing slowed. His heart slowed. _Everything_ slowed. He could see every leaf in the forest below, it seemed. He could see the gap between trees he was aiming for. And by a very slight quivering in forest, heading his way, he could tell where the enemy was.

His teeth bared in an expression more snarl than grin. "And where is that band that so vauntingly swore that the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, a home and a country will leave us no more? Their blood will wash out their foul footsteps' pollution!"

Jason was almost to the trees now. "And _thus_ be it ever when free men shall stand, between their loved homes and the war's desolation-" And he was down on the ground, somehow landing on his feet.

The light was dim, but that was fine – he'd always had good night vision. There were a handful of lights up ahead – dim witchlights floating over the heads of the kidnappers. In their midst he could see two shorter figures stumbling dazedly along, and in the front the pale figure of the once-king marched, eyes glowing an eerie blue.

_Did they make you into some sort of ring-wraith?_ Jason asked silently as he ducked behind a tree. He was too far away to be confident of his shots, especially with the girls in the middle. But when they passed by, he'd be able-

Why was there light on his side of the tree? It was coming from his gun? – No, his hand!

Revolvers still gripped tight, he turned his left hand over just enough to see the runes etched there, glowing just bright enough to read by.

_Well, shit_. He quickly tucked the offending hand underneath the Zephyr's Kiss. _I'm not going to be able to ambush as well like this._

_On the other hand, we shouldn't be shooting while the girls are in the middle like that. Heh, what was it Wales said? Moving like an avalanche?_

_Get the girls out of the line of fire. After that . . . the more distracting I am, the _better_._

He could almost hear their individual footsteps, as they began to pass by. The king, then the first rank, then the second . . .

Jason made sure the revolvers were well holstered, then ducked out from behind the tree and began his charge.

The second both hands were free the enormity of his personal danger crashed in on him – his heart, already beating fast, sped up, and he felt like he was about to throw up from sheer terror. Too late. He was already moving.

_Ohshitohshitohshitohshitohsh itohshitohshit_ – the outer line was coming up all too fast, he was gonna _die_-

_One_ of the kidnappers had enough presence of mind to have his wand out. Jason grabbed it and threw it away as he crashed into the considerably smaller men, knocking them aside and _hopefully_ disordering their ranks long enough to-

He bent down just long enough to scoop the girls up, one in each arm, barely even slowing down as he ran out of the column through the _other_ side.

He could hear the shouts behind him as he crashed through the underbrush. He felt a ripple in the air off on his left, no doubt some not-quite-aimed spell sent his way. They needed cover, someone was going create more light soon . . .

Jason ducked behind a particularly large tree and set the girls down. "Louise? Are you with us?"

"J-Jason?" her voice was shaky, but it was clear enough. "How did-"

"Later." The tree was suddenly casting a deep shadow as light flared up on the other side. "I'm here, I've got help, but . . . that's more men then I wanted to deal with."

"Who-?"

"_Later_." Although he rather wished Wales was here _now_, with the gryphon, so they could all fly away. "Tend to Henrietta. Once you're sure she's alright – do you have your wand?"

Louise nodded. "We both do."

"Once you're sure of the Princess – I could use some support. Time to put all that training to use."

"Really?" It was heartbreaking how eager she suddenly looked.

"Give me a little time to distract them, but, yeah." He stood up and reached under the robes for his revolvers. The second he touched them, all the terror disappeared, replaced by grim determination.

"What's _that?_!" Louise pointed to the glowing runes on his left hand.

He grinned, fiercely. "That's part of the help. See you in a bit, little mistress. Keep her safe."

* * *

The men were too disturbed to grumble as they spread out in search of their lost quarry. The large gray figure would have seemed a ghost, but it had knocked over too many men before fleeing with their prisoners. Algar was one of the ones who'd been knocked down, although he hadn't lost his wand like Layton, the unlucky bastard. Layton had stayed behind to look for his wand, along with a few of the others as well as the creepy old king.

There was enough light, now, that the gray man wouldn't be able to flee without being spotted. Now it was only a matter of searching behind every tree until they stumbled over-

Algar stiffened as the gray man stepped out just a few feet in front of him. The man had a pistol in each hand, and he pointed both at Algar and fired.

Algar grinned mercilessly as his personal shield collapsed. A _competent_ mage-knight had to be able to endure at least two shots, precisely because of the difficulty of delivering a third in timely fashion. It didn't matter if the gray man had more pistols primed beneath his cloak, he already had his wand swinging up to-

The gray man did _something_ to the back of one of his pistols, then fired again! Algar felt the hammer-blow to his chest, and knew he didn't even have . . . the breath . . . to . . .

* * *

Jason made sure both pistols were cocked and ready to fire before moving on. By the sounds of it, he'd attracted quite a bit of attention. That was fine – he'd moved a fair bit from the girls before taking down his first target. Now he'd lead them back to the path they'd been following.

Footsteps were coming up behind him. He ducked behind a tree to wait for them – and there were more footsteps from the other direction! How was he going to-

Like a math problem resolving itself, he could practically _see_ the vectors leading to each of the approaching kidnappers. Soon, they'd both be in range-

_Are you crazy?! Two-gun mojo is _stupid_! It's Hollywood! It doesn't _work_, it's going to get us _killed_-_

But he _really_ wanted to try it, and there was no time before-

The revolvers spoke as one, and each man stopped dead as they felt the impacts on their shields. Jason frantically re-cocked each pistol and fired again, and then a third time as the men finally figured out where he was and began to bring their wands to bear.

_How is it that I've made every shot so far?_ he had to ask himself as he ran away from the last two kills. _Is that what the glowing runes mean?_

More footsteps, running. Jason grinned and moved to intercept. Two shots smashed the shields of his latest victim, then the final bullet in his revolvers sped down the barrel – and only then did the shield collapse.

_Oh, so he's one of the _good_ ones_, Jason thought as he launched himself at the mage. The wand had just finished coming up when Jason crashed into its wielder, tumbling them both to the ground.

The major difference was that Jason wasn't particularly stunned by the impact. _Need to reload, need to finish him . . ._

There wasn't time to bash the kidnapper's head in – by the shouts and footsteps, the others were finally managing to converge on him – but _there_ was the man's sword-wand, still clutched in one hand. Jason ripped it out of the man's hand with desperate strength, raised it, reversed it, and drove it down through the kidnapper's neck.

Then he was off the corpse, up again, and racing for cover. He'd almost gotten behind a big enough tree when the shouts intensified and several sets of footsteps were heading his way.

_Bloody hell!_ No time to reload. Jason tucked the empty revolvers away, then pulled out the dagger and the sword. _This is gonna suck!_

He stepped out and threw the dagger at one of the advancing men. It went wide, the man didn't even need to dodge, but then it came back to Jason's hand, and he felt a cold certainty that he had the balance of it now.

And perhaps he did. The second throw buried itself in the wand-shoulder of the man on the farthest left. The man screamed as Jason summoned Butterfly back to his left hand. A throw at the next man was dodged, and that kidnapper had enough battle-cunning to cast a spell directly at the dagger, knocking it out of the air and into a tree, where it stuck, quivering.

No matter. Jason was on him right after, swinging his sword. The kidnapper barely had time to interpose his sword-wand, and it was knocked badly out of position. There was _plenty_ of time to take him through the throat.

Something hit Jason in the side. He turned to see that the rest of the kidnappers had gathered into one group. They had six ordinary soldiers out in front, men in armor, holding their swords like they actually knew how to use them. Behind them were four more mages, and they were now casting at Jason.

The impacts of their spells weren't _too_ bad – the effects of the Zephyr's Kiss, surely – but there was no way he could actually take six trained soldiers without any element of surprise.

Should he call for Louise? He wouldn't be able to protect her if he did, they'd have to be able to take the rest out fast. Could he do that? Probably not-

There was a blinding flash off to Jason's side, and an ear-splitting peal of thunder sounded immediately afterwards.

_Wales, I hope that's you_. Even if not, it was his best chance at surprise, so he charged. Half-remembered lessons, from before his cousin gave up trying to share a passion for authentic swordplay, floated to the front of his mind, and Jason lunged forward the final distance, thrusting, stabbing through armor and bypassing a sword that had been raised to deflect a swing.

Then he had to quickly remember positions for parrying as he tried to back up. Everything felt horribly awkward. There was no time to spend - not even a split second - to get it _right_, but the men seemed willing enough to drive him rather than finish him. The only other consolation was that the mages had stopped casting spells at him, not wanting to hit their own soldiers.

Another flash of far-too-close lightning, and for a split second Jason thought he could see Louise and a scared Henrietta watching, white-faced, from the sidelines.

Then a _very_ familiar boom sounded, and two of the enemy mages crumpled and fell. ["Well _done_! But I could use more!"]

The other two mages fell to Louise's explosion before they could figure out what was going on, and then the soldiers on the periphery of the fight began to fall. Faster than Jason would have thought possible, it was down to him and two final soldiers.

["Jason? I don't think I can take them out without getting you too."]

["That's fine, Louise. Just keep me as close to the edge as possible."]

["I'll try."]

Even on the edge, the explosion _hurt_. Quite a bit more than any of the other spells had. But if Jason collapsed to his knees, the final two soldiers couldn't even manage _that_ much as they fell.

Jason grinned at the girls and waved. "I haven't seen the king anywhere, but-"

Two powerful clamps, icy cold, suddenly gripped his shoulders. Jason twisted as much as he could and looked up. There, behind him, the bone-pale face of once-king James glared down, eyes burning blue in rage.

_That's what they were herding me towards. Oh, shit!_

* * *

**A/N: **For anyone keeping score, Jason managed to down 7 kidnappers, Louise got 9, and Wales has used the Rod of Foudre twice.

Next up: Boss battle and aftermath.


	33. Machinating VI

**Machinating, Part VI:**

["Louise! Hit him! Hit him in the head!"]

Jason ducked his own head as far as he could, then jerked forward as hard as he could when he heard the explosion go off.

It was just enough to break free. He scrambled to his feet and put some distance between himself and the once-king. Where was – ah, there was Butterfly, stuck in that tree!

Switching his sword to his left hand, Jason grabbed the dagger, pulled it free, and threw it as hard as he could. The dagger hit the once-king in the shoulder and penetrated to the bone.

Jason didn't bother to look back as he raced to the girls. "You're both still fine? Great, we-"

"Jason!" Louise, white-faced, pointed back at the once-king. Jason turned to look.

Once-king James had gotten a good grip on the dagger, and now yanked it free. Then, snarling, he swung a mighty blow and buried it in the trunk of a tree. It went in to the hilt.

"Draugr!" Louise half-gasped.

"What?"

"Orc abomination! You have to cut off their heads, they can't die like living people!"

"Right." Jason straightened up. "Time to end this."

"They're _really_ strong, Jason. Be careful!"

"Yeah." He started walking towards the once-king, who sneered and waited for him.

_I need a good battle-cry. 'There can be only one'? Nah, who would get it? Maybe . . ._

"Begone, foul dwimmerlaik, if ye be not deathless!" as he thrust, trying for the throat. The once-king was rude enough to dodge, and Jason quickly jumped back to avoid the icy hands that grasped for him.

_If I can chop off his head, can I get his limbs?_ Jason swung his sword, trying for the draugr's left arm. He felt the sword bite into flesh near the shoulder, but he very nearly lost his grip when the sword bounced off bone. The return blow lifted him off his feet and sent him flying back more than half-a-dozen yards.

Before Jason could recover, the draugr pulled out its wand and cast a spell at him. Winds swirled around him, and solidified into an invisible cage.

_Oh, that is just _hax_!_ But if he was effectively out of the fight, it meant he had nothing better to do than reload.

"My dear girls, Prince Wales is waiting for us." The voice was hollow, echoing, as if from the depths of a grave.

["Louise, don't fall for it again!"]

["I know not to meet his gaze, now, but-!"] "Henrietta, no!"

Jason paused for a moment to look up. Henrietta was slowly walking towards the once-king, while Louise tried to pull her back.

["She never really came out of it, did she?"]

["No, she-"] Louise's response was cut off, and she howled in frustration as the draugr gestured with his wand and trapped Louise in another cage of air.

"Jason. You have proven your bravery and worth tonight. Surrender, and you shall all be taken good care of." With the once-king focused on him, the voice didn't sound so grave-like. More like how Saruman was supposed to sound, comforting and beguiling, Christopher Lee as a stern-yet-approving grandfather.

Jason quickly looked down and focused on reloading the pistols. If the voice alone could bring him that close to delirium . . .

Once-king James didn't say anything else to Jason, but instead murmured to Henrietta as she took her place by his side. They began casting together as Jason got the last bullets loaded, and he risked a quick look up to see a waterspout swirl around the princess and the once-king, rising above the tree-line.

["What are they doing?"]

["Could they be signaling the dragon-riders? A waterspout like that needs Water and Air working together, so it shows Henrietta has been taken. This is bad, Jason!"]

Jason thought back to the lightning flashes from the battle. ["Maybe. We'll find out soon enough."]

Even through the sheet of water, the glowing eyes of the once-king were visible, moving as they searched for the wind-dragons who were to take them all away.

"Stay here, my child," the draugr commanded, and Henrietta stood there, holding the water-spout in place, as the twin blue lights that marked the eyes of the once-king ascended up the funnel.

["What's going on? Did you already do something, Jason?"]

["Plenty, but not-"] the air-cage around Jason suddenly collapsed, and he looked around quickly, trying to-

Wales was standing there, just off his left flank. ["Jason? Not what?"] Jason flashed him a grin, then pointed and mouthed 'Louise'. ["Never mind. It'll be clear in a bit."] Wales nodded and silently crept towards Jason's imprisoned mistress. Jason followed him, not quite as fast but almost as silent.

_We need to break her Highness out of that, but - well, in more ways than one. Right now she's a liability for us or an ally for him._

Jason caught up with Wales just as Louise whirled in surprise from the collapsed air-cage. Wales winked and pulled the veil of his Kiss down, and her face lit up in sheer delight as she recognized him.

"You _did_ bring help!" she whispered excitedly. "Now-"

"Now we need to take care of the Princess," Jason interrupted, albeit at a whisper. "Wales, how tough is that water-spout? Can I get through it?"

"That's the Monsoon Asylum. With the air behind it, the water is as hard as steel, and you'd be tossed out even if you broke the water somehow."

"Ouch. Family secret?"

"Royal alliance magic, yes."

"Can you break it?"

Wales rolled his eyes. "If I had a Tristainian Royal on our side."

"What if you bring Henrietta to her senses, like Jason did to me?" Louise wanted to know.

Wales looked thoughtful. "That could - how did you do that, Jason?"

"I screamed inside Louise's head until she woke up. I don't - maybe you have a spell for that?"

Wales shook his head. "No, dammit. I can talk to her, but I don't know how long we have before - what _was_ that thing? My father?"

Louise shivered. "A draugr. They must have an orc. Maybe tribe-less."

"Yeah. What about this? Can you give me an opening in that? Break the air long enough to get me in?"

"I . . . can try."

Wales began casting as Jason charged, hands(and thus revolvers) tucked inside the robes of his Kiss to hopefully keep them dry. Right before he reached the water-wall of the Asylum a portion of it rippled, looking not quite so solid. He pivoted enough to change his point of impact and crashed into the ripple.

It felt like belly-flopping into water from 20 feet up, but Jason was still riding the battle-high that touching his weapons seemed to grant him. The pain didn't even start to slow him down as he scooped the princess up for the second time that night, disrupting the Asylum in the process.

The water-wall splashed outwards as the controlling winds collapsed. Wales and Louise were dashing across the clearing, but Jason only had time to take a single step towards them when a deep thump shook the ground behind him, and a pair of icy hands took hold of him.

_Aw, shit, not again!_ Of course, they'd dealt with this before, and the point was to get Henrietta away, so Jason shoved her in Wales's direction before the once-king could get a better grip.

Which he did. Despite Jason's best effort to break free, the crushing grip of a single icy arm forced most of the air from Jason's lungs, and he found himself in the embarrassing positing of being the once-king's _cover_ as the draugr began launching spells at Wales.

_No! He does not get to hold me still with just one hand! This is _hax_! _HAX_!_ But protesting the bullshit of his situation to an uncaring universe didn't seem to be working. His left arm was effectively bound, squeezed against his side and held motionless, and his right arm wasn't in a position to get any leverage.

"Give over, child. Your allies will tire long before I do." The voice, unlovely and gravelike once more, rasped behind him.

_He's probably right, dammit! Okay, things are desperate, gotta try something. Gotta try _anything_. Can't hurt him, the sword went right into the skin but he didn't even pay attention, what can . . . wait a sec . . ._

The once-king wasn't precisely invulnerable, just indifferent to trauma. But what about-?

The positioning was awkward, but Jason was able to line up his pistol on the once-king's wand hand just as it slowed to finish yet another spell. The once-king stiffened in shock as the discharged bullet smashed through two fingers and the palm of his wand-hand, causing the spell to fizzle.

Jason re-cocked and fired again, aiming slightly to the side to get undamaged bone and flesh. Then he pushed the wand-arm aside enough to line up a better shot, and with two more shots the wand of the once-king dropped from the tattered wreckage that had once been a working assembly of flesh and bone.

Once-king James roared, spun Jason around, picked him up with the remaining good hand, and flung him into the closest tree.

["Jason!? Don't be dead, Jason! Please don't be dead!"]

_How am I still even conscious?_

But he was, and the pain from being slammed into the tree was almost manageable now, and ["I'm still here, Louise."] his mistress needed him. He rose to his hands and knees, coughing something that pinked the ground under his head. _Don't think about that. Water mage. Win this and they'll fix you._

Jason looked up. The draugr was slowly advancing on the three living mages, wand in his remaining good hand. Wales was doing his best to counter the once-king's spells as Louise tried to reach Henrietta, but the prince was beginning to look tired.

_Right. Strength _and_ spells are just too much. Gotta change that._

["Louise. Got something you need to do."]

["Jason? What is it?"]

["You're only going to have a second, so you need to be ready. When I act, I need to you put an explosion into the draugr's hand."]

["My explosions aren't hurting him."] Jason could hear the shame in that admission.

["Not at him, Louise. _Into_ the hand. Get ready. You'll know when."]

Standing up made everything hurt all over again. His vision swam for a moment, but he didn't get to pass out. His approach to the once-king was less a charge and more a lurch, and somewhere along the way he'd dropped his right pistol, but dammit at least he was moving.

["Now!"] as he lunged for the once-king's left arm. His hands came together, remaining pistol and undead flesh pressed between them, and it wouldn't be more than a moment before the once-king contemptuously tossed him away once more-

But Louise was ready, for that brief moment the once-king's hand was still, and she'd grasped the difference that Jason meant, because flesh and ichor and bone flew everywhere as the once-king was unhanded.

Then the draugr roared again, and Jason couldn't quite figure out why he was lying down again, only it hurt too much to breath, and everything was dark, and-

_Oh, I'm face-down._ Even rolling over was agony, but now he could get tiny sips of air down, and-

Louise was standing over him now, snarling in utter fury, casting spell after spell at some target that had to be dodging like a bat out of hell, from the way her aim kept shifting - oh, right, the once-king was still up.

_At least he's not using magic anymore. She'll take care of him._

But then Louise slowed, and Wales came up beside her, casting his own spells as she sagged, wiping sweat from her forehead.

_Aw, shit. James still has the endurance to outlast them, doesn't he?_

Jason bit back a scream as he got back to his knees, coughing - yes, that was definitely blood. Too much blood.

"Okay," he rasped. "We need to get his head off. Tell me you can at least hold him still?"

"Hold Person doesn't do anything." Louise was there, holding him steady. He probably needed it, to keep from collapsing again.

"Can you - I don't know - levitate him?"

"Yes!" Wales got out between spells. "Just got-"

"He'd have to hold still for long enough."

"And he's not going to do that. Right. For the record, melee sucks. Help me up."

"Jason? What are you doing?"

"He won't hold still, but maybe I can hold him. Would that work?"

"You idiot! Can you even stand?!"

A rush of warmth flooded through Jason, and suddenly his legs didn't feel quite so wobbly. "He can now," Henrietta said as she approached them. "But not for long, Mr. Familiar. You need treatment."

"Gotta win the fight first, Highness. Zap me again?"

She shook her head. "Mother warned me about soldiers like you. You'll rip yourself apart if you can't feel the damage."

"I'm not a - whatever. Yes, ma'am. Time to get going." He waved one hand around the battlefield. "Louise, there's a sword somewhere. I dropped it when I was in the air cage. Find it, please?"

She nodded. Jason turned to the ongoing duel between Albionian Royals. _Even without his hands, the once-king can win any leverage contest. How can I possibly hold him still . . . ?_

He ran to the once-king - well, got there as quickly as he could - bent over, and picked the draugr up, holding him as high as Jason could lift.

"Now, you guys!" The once-king was already twisting in his grasp, limbs raking across Jason's back-

But the ground was no longer there, and Jason and James tumbled over as the levitate spell took effect. Henrietta was standing next to Wales, and they both had their wands out.

_I don't think even a draugr is trained for zero-gee combat. I wonder if I can figure it out first? The enemy's gate is down . . ._

But then Louise was there, clutching a sword with one hand and her wand out in the other, and an unseen force gently pulled Jason away from the once-king before he could even try.

"I must look a fright," Jason chuckled as his feet touched the ground again and Louise handed him the sword.

"We'll get you cleaned up." Her grin was unsteady, but her voice was clear, at least. "Go. Finish this."

"Right." He turned back, and saw that the two Royals had the once-king stiff as a board, hanging in mid-air, looking straight down and unable to glare anyone into delirium.

"Your majesty, I cannot say I like the circumstances of our second meeting."

A tired laugh came from the draugr. "It turned out well enough for you, I think. Better than for the monster who bound me."

Jason paused. "Care to elaborate?"

"Certainly. My son and his beloved will tire soon, after all, so all I must do is negotiate until I am freed to carry out my orders once more."

"Well, that's- huh. Got any interesting gossip? The more you talk, the more intrigued we'll be, right?"

"The monster gave me to the orc demon, then pulled me back and bound me to flesh and bone and her terrible will. She planned to make me reveal everything, but this chance to capture Tristain's future and an Heir to Brimir was too good to pass up. She didn't have time to interrogate me."

"Jason," Wales warned. "I can't hold this much longer."

"Right." Jason swung carefully, and the head of the once-king James separated cleanly from his shoulders.

He grinned at the others. "That was some interesting sabotage James did there. Wanna bet it's all real?"

"Sabotage?" Wales has a peculiarly disturbed look on his face as he approached his father's corpse.

"He warned us not to let him go. I doubt the 'monster' would have wanted that. Negotiate? Yes. Remind us that there was a time-limit before he was free again? No, probably not."

"And you think the rest was true as well?"

"Unless he had orders that covered every possible contingency, yeah. Which means whoever sent him may not know you're alive, or where your Relics are."

The warmth suddenly left Jason, and his legs gave out.

Henrietta was there, rapping him on the head with her wand. "Mother _was_ right. Soldiers like you just won't pay attention to how hurt you are, no matter how much pain there is."

"Not a soldier," he hastened to reassure her. "Familiar power. It seems to work if I'm holding a weapon."

"Then let _go_ of that sword and that pistol!"

"Can you take care of some of the damage, first? I'm worried about how I could react when it ends."

"Mr. Familiar. Let. Them. Go."

"Yes ma'am."

Of course, as soon as he did, his heart sped up and felt like it would burst out of his chest, and suddenly he could barely breath, and his vision was going black and-

Most of it was swept away in a tide of cool, soothing almost-wet across his body. Henrietta frowned. "You were right. You almost died from shock. You have to be careful with this power in the future, Mr. Familiar."

In the future. Yes, because Louise was a target for somebody, and he'd have to kill - oh, god, he'd killed at least half a dozen men that night, he-

"Turn him!" Henrietta shouted, and three pairs of hands did exactly that as Jason threw up.

"Now he's acting like an unblooded recruit. How could he fight for so long-?" Wales wanted to know.

"He said it's a familiar power." Louise's voice was worried, but comforting for its presence.

"It could be. Or maybe a blessing. I believe the wargod of his people is a Fury. He prayed for the fortitude to face combat, and it was granted."

"Perhaps it's both. Brimir is merciful, even enough to allow one of his Furies to bless a faithful heathen who serves a mage." Henrietta's voice was grown cool, detached, and professional. "But the battle is over. I need to put him out so I can fix the worst of this."

Cool-and-wet swept over Jason, and he went with it.

* * *

"I wish-" "I'm glad-"

The words were spoken simultaneously, the first things said as the contented euphoria slowly banked.

Wales chuckled, and stroked Henrietta's hair. "You first."

"I wish I'd seduced you years ago."

Wales pulled away slightly - and if there was not quite so much tingling warmth, at least he had a better view of all her delicious rumpledness. "Years? We haven't hardly _had_ years. When you were 13, then, or even 12?"

She smiled lazily at him. "Why do you think I demanded that you teach me how to kiss?"

"I see."

She shrugged. "And I decided I was in love with you when I was eight, anyway."

"At eight? How could you even - who told you in the first -"

"Not like _that_. I didn't know about all this back then. I just knew I loved you."

Wales froze. "Wait, you were very nearly nine when Louise - and the blueberries-"

Henrietta flushed. "I heard some gossip," she mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I didn't know what they meant, I just like blueberries, so I got her to-" Henrietta waved her hand vaguely, then punched Wales as he started to laugh. "It's not _that_ funny."

"In hindsight it's hilarious. So why only make me kiss you, if you knew enough to want more by 12?"

Henrietta winced. "I didn't, and I wasn't ready for this, but . . . if we'd gotten caught before all the trouble started, then they would have made us marry, and then I could have helped more against Reconquista.

"And . . ." she looked down, suddenly shy. "With what you showed me when I was 14, even at 12 it might not have been so bad."

"Ah. I must confess, my brothers hadn't told me how to do that when I was fifteen. They woke me up early on my sixteenth birthday and told me, well, everything. As their present to me."

"So when I was 13, then."

". . . Just so."

"And then when I was 14?"

"I stopped because we were almost caught. If that hadn't happened . . . probably. If you were ready."

"I think I was." Henrietta trailed a finger across his chest, making him shiver. "So is it true what those ever-so-lurid books all claim about Royal Vigor?"

"Should we? Does this not require care and discretion?"

Henrietta shrugged, and instantly had his undivided attention. "I have long enough to patch myself up. Once more, or twice, or - well, it won't make it any harder to fix."

Wales scowled.

"What's wrong?"

"You'll fix yourself up, and then that slimy bastard concubine's get will tear you open. _He_ won't be gentle, or patient."

"Patient?" her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'patient'?"

"Maybe I meant 'restraint'? It's not you, it's - we have to fight ourselves, to-" Then he noticed she was trying not to laugh. "You already know all about it, don't you?"

"Mother gave me the grimoire for . . . complications when I was fifteen."

"Ah. The advantages of Water."

Henrietta nodded. "He won't be able to hurt me. Not much."

"I still don't like it."

"You should have heard what Gallia wanted, instead."

"Don't tell me. I just wish this didn't have to be hidden."

"Well, at least we aren't the only ones with a forbidden romance."

"I'm sorry?"

"You saw how worried Louise was, how fiercely she stood over her fallen familiar."

"Louise and - Henrietta! He's a commoner! Worse, he's a _familiar_! That's just - that's _sick_!"

"I just betrayed my future husband with you. Do you think we have standing to condemn, after that?"

"I . . . well, if we're all sunk into corruption, then . . . You've been around them more than I have - are they lovers yet?"

Henrietta snorted. "Karina de La Vallière's daughter, get into trouble? Not without a friend to encourage her in mischief."

"Oh. I don't suppose she has anyone like that at the Academy . . . but, wasn't it Louise who was always punished for the pranks you two pulled?"

"Well . . ." Henrietta looked sheepish for a moment. "She was always willing when I came up with a new idea. I don't think she minded too much."

"I . . . see. So, how would you have encouraged Louise in this instance? Trap me in a room and take turns?"

He yelped as Henrietta drove a sudden fist into his side. "Louise is my friend, Wales, but I don't feel like sharing you. Ever."

"I was _jesting_." She didn't look very convinced. "I was! But, no jest, how will you prod Louise? Does this mean she's done with your captain?"

"I don't know." Henrietta sighed. "I may not be able to help her. And maybe I shouldn't. I can't imagine her parents would ever approve."

"I would not like to risk their wrath, myself. Is it true that the Duchess is-"

"Yes, she is. But don't ever bring it up with her, she absolutely detests the books. I never _could_ get a straight answer about what she did to Herr Dumas for publishing them."

* * *

Jason slowly came to. Everything was a dull bruise, faded aches beating in time with his heart. And against one side, pressure. It hurt a bit more, but it was warm, and comforting, and it felt like the center of his universe.

Which could only mean - he opened his eyes. Yep. Louise. Snoring ever so softly, drool just starting to trickle out the side of her mouth. He really wanted to leave her there - but he also needed to pee.

_Okay, how do we move without waking her up? Come on, heavy sleeper magic go!_ Unfortunately, tonight seemed to be the exception, because as soon as he shifted her eyes popped open.

Then he couldn't move because she'd pounced on him, and suddenly he was getting hugged, and sloppy kisses all over his face, and a babble of thanks and apology that he couldn't even begin to sort through-

His hand came up - some vague idea of holding her still long enough for her to make sense - and he cupped her cheek just as another kiss brushed the corner of his mouth. Except she flinched, and it ended up on his lips, and suddenly neither of them was saying anything. Or moving. Or moving away.

She finally pulled back, gasping for breath, flushed, eyes wide and enormous. His hand followed, still cradling her cheek as if stuck to the source of heat, and-

"Well. I can't say I mind, little mistress. _Far from it._ But, are you okay?"

She stared at him, flushing even darker. "You - am I okay- am _I_ - !"

Jason tried not to yelp as her teeth sank into the fleshy part between collarbone and neck. She was still flushed and panting with rage as she moved back up and took his head between her hands.

"Not even Father is crazy enough to go toe-to-toe with a draugr!"

And what could he say to that? "Ah. Well-"

"You survived because King James didn't want to have to kill you! A loyal draugr would have ripped you apart in moments!"

"Let's be thankful he was loyal to his living, then."

Louise nodded, slumping enough that her forehead ended up against his. "And how are _you_, Jason?" she asked, her lips close enough to his that he could feel them moving from the heat alone. "Wales said that unblooded recruits can have trouble afterwards."

Jason closed his eyes for a moment. "Oh, Mary pierced with sorrow, remember reach and save, each soul that comes tomorrow - that came this evening, before the God that gave. Since each was born of woman, for each at utter need, true comrade and true foeman, Madonna: intercede!"

He reached up to cup her cheek again, and when she relaxed into his hand it was just enough movement to let him kiss her again. He reached around with his other hand to rub her back as she broke off the kiss, sliding down enough to rest her head against his chest.

_Wait - how dressed _am_ I_? A quick check of his nerves confirmed that the Zephyr's Kiss had been removed and his shirt was open, but his pants at least were still on. _Okay, good, we're close enough to decent._

"I'm . . . I'm not throwing up. Ask me tomorrow about my dreams, I haven't had a chance to have them yet." Louise nodded and sighed into him.

They were both quiet for a moment. "And you? I'm pretty sure you haven't ever killed, either."

"M'mother," Louise mumbled. "She taught us about kidnappers. How horribly wrong it can all go. That it's worse than anything we'd ever read about. She made Eléonore and even Cattleya practice for months so they'd react right if someone ever got to them.

"Mother always told me she'd train me when I was older and stronger - when I had a familiar - but I was so jealous of them! I couldn't even make anything explode back then, so I was just the useless, worthless, nothing but trouble-"

"Well, now I know how much trouble you can manage to get into - ow!" _Note to self: Don't tease Louise when her mouth is next to our flesh. We are apparently crunchy and good with ketchup._

"Just _kidding_, mistress! You did great. I saw you fighting him off back then."

"Wales had to wake Henrietta up. You were lying there, and I had to hold him off - I really did it, didn't I?"

"Either that or we died and our paradise begins with the two of us alone together."

She bit him again, but it didn't seem like her heart was into it. More of a nip.

_I could almost wish for it to be Heaven. They wouldn't send me to the special hell after letting us in, right?_

"Anyway, how do you know so much about draugrs, anyway? Did your Dad have to kill a bunch of them?"

He felt her nod against his skin. "Orcs leave really angry ghosts when they die, so they give their dead to an underworld heathen goddess named Hel to keep them away from the living. Father says they call their necrolytes 'gravecallers'.

"But a gravecaller doesn't have to give their dead to Hel. They can bind their dead to return to their bodies and rise again. It's a horrible parody of life, but the draugr are far stronger than any living orc. The only reason they don't do it to every orc is that too many draugr blight the land, so there's nothing to grow or hunt for the living."

"And your Dad learned this all from fighting them?"

She nodded again. "He had to fight them for years, when he and Mother returned to Vallière land."

"Returned?"

"Father had a terrible fight with Grandfather before he met Mother, but after they decided to marry the fight didn't matter anymore, so they made peace with Grandfather and were able to go home.

"Only Grandfather was wasting away, and my uncles were mostly dead by then, and the orcs had become very entrenched on our estates because no one had been willing to face them for years. So Father and Mother had to do a lot of fighting to clear them out."

"Ah." _Okay, I guess I should make sure._ "Now, keeping in mind that I am, after all, an ignorant foreigner - is it really impossible to make peace with orcs?"

She pushed herself up to look him in the eyes. "Are you _serious?!_ Orcs think a peace treaty just means they can't get _caught_ eating children."

"Wait, orcs eat-!" but then there was a rustle in the bushes coming closer, and Louise jumped off Jason, flushing, as Wales and Henrietta came hand-in-hand into the light of the clearing.

Oh, being hand-in-hand implied much - but the faint odor that clung to them pretty much clinched it. The smug grin on Wales's face was entirely unneeded confirmation, and then of course there was the fact that Henrietta was looking radiant enough to very nearly outshine the moons overhead.

Jason pulled himself upright, groaning as he got to his feet. "So . . . I guess the first thing is to ask: Has the general long-term plan changed?"

Wales looked wary. "I don't follow."

"Is Germania still absorbing Tristain via marriage?"

Wales scowled. "Yes. And we will take care of everything with all due discretion."

"Really? Because anyone looking at you two can tell you just had your wedding night. Princess, you are damn near _glowing_."

Everyone else in the clearing winced.

"Now, Wales, I have to say, congrats, not every guy can manage that. You did good. But, all in all - and this is said with an eye to the extra-special heartbreak you've laid up in store - it might have been better to bring Mr. Colbert along as the magical heavy, instead."

"Bring - as if _you_ brought _me_ along!"

"Louise is the cardinal direction of my internal compass, and I mean that literally. Speaking of which, Louise, can you see if you can turn that off? It's a little distracting." She nodded and closed her eyes. The sense of direction and pull towards her faded. "Now, Wales, can you honestly say the same of Henrietta? Of course not."

Wales glared and opened his mouth-

"But why didn't you just tell me that Wales was at the Academy with you?" Louise jumped in to ask. "Then we could have avoided the ambush in the first place."

"Uh-"

"Or Wales could have sent me a real letter, using an Academy bird." Henrietta pointed out. "You could have sent that the day before I received the false letter."

Wales flinched. "Jason, why don't you explain that one?"

"Oh, _real_ valiant of you."

"It wasn't _my_ idea. I don't deserve any of the credit."

"_Fine_. Okay, the plan was to hide Wales away until Henrietta was safely wedded. Why?" Jason waved a hand in their direction. "Because of _that_. What happens if His Imperial Majesty decides Tristain has forsworn itself? Remember, there's that leak in the palace."

"Leak? What leak?!"

"I dunno. But Louise, myself, and Captain Wardes were attacked twice in La Rochelle, and the second attack was coordinated to hit two targets at the same time. Someone unfriendly knew of the mission, and probably had a guess at the reason for it."

"I - and you went along with this?" Henrietta demanded of Wales.

"Germania and Gallia are both ten times the size of Tristain. I'm just a beggar prince, now. Headmaster Osmond walked me through the logic, and - it's not much different than the letter you wrote me."

"I didn't let you think I was dead! Why would you do that to me?"

"He didn't want to, Highness," Jason broke in. "But why? Because of _this_," he waved his hand again toward them. "Eros mocks Mars, and makes Jupiter his court fool."

"Who?"

"Ah. Just some heathen gods. What I mean is, you two can't keep your hands off each other. You both made the decision to be responsible, for the sake of your kingdoms, but then you were given the choice again."

"You hoped to spare us that, then?"

"Most people couldn't make that choice even once. Highness, I _am_ sorry, but how could I dare ask you to make it twice?"

Anger chased bitterness and shame around Henrietta's face, finally replaced by surprise as Louise went over and gave her a hug.

"Perhaps it would have been kinder," the princess finally said, sadly. "But here is a command: By your loyalty to my vassal and friend, do not lie to me in this matter again. Do you understand?"

Jason nodded. "Yes, your Highness."

Wales pulled Henrietta into a hug of his own, where she shook for a long time, tears and sobs that she would not utter aloud.

* * *

After cleaning up the evidence - a task involving the use of Air and Water to create and spread the smells of delicious carrion - the men flew overwatch as closely as they dared to the palace, until they knew their ladies had made it home safely. Then they returned to the Academy.

Wales dropped Jason off first, but Jason gestured for him to stay a moment.

"If you have some idea of convincing me to abandon my love again, I will hurl you from the highest tower of this Academy."

"Fair enough. But, no." Jason pulled out the wind-up radios and showed Wales how to operate them. "You see the utility?"

"How fast do these messages travel, again?"

"Faster than you can literally imagine. Just make sure you have them wound up enough to transmit."

"These are, what, a peace offering?"

"These are me trying to help keep you two discreet. Because, believe it or not, I wish you two could stay together without politics getting in the way."

Wales nodded. "We'll be careful."

"Please do. One other thing: Have you given thought to smuggling refugees out of Albion?"

"That is almost impossible, with Reconquista in control of the ports."

"Doesn't mean it can't be done. People hidden in ships, windstone rafts . . . Think about it. You'll need an army to retake Albion, unless you _want_ Germania to absorb it instead."

Wales had a very disturbed look on his face as he mounted up and flew away to the Headmaster's office.

Jason collapsed into one of the chairs, not really wanting to move right then. "Note to self: Royalty don't make very compliant pawns. Get better at politicking before we try again."

He got back up, groaning, to get ready for bed.

"What a day."

* * *

**A/N:**

Ah, that would be the sound of a confirmed Mature rating. Oh well, at least that's one harem member safely disposed of.

Wales doesn't have much reason to like the Imperial Heir. On the other hand, the fellow is _almost_ as unpleasant as Wales thinks he is. Politics within the Imperial Family have been especially troublesome for the last generation.

James, I will note, was under orders to be low-profile when possible, including avoiding killing people he didn't have to. This was because different orders ran the risk of him acting rather like Hellsing's Alucard.

Oh, and I will note that Kipling was a product of his day: A British Imperialist, and either racist or culturalist in a time when culture and race correlated pretty damn closely. So some of his stuff can be rather, er, triggery. But if you can filter through that, his poetry often soars through the stratosphere of brilliance. Check him out, if you like - everything he wrote is public domain.


	34. Decision

**A/N:** The discussion for this chapter starts over at Spacebattles at forums spacebattles com/goto/post?id=10017279#post-10017279 (you'll need to add in the dots between the words).

* * *

**Developments: Part I**

"Wake up, young man."

Jason twitched awake as the Headmaster's voice dispelled the half-formed nightmare, filled with glowing – but the imagery fled before he could properly remember it.

The old man was standing over him, wand out, with a patient expression on his face. "You seemed troubled, in your repose. A bad dream?"

"It was starting to be." Jason sat up. "Did you get a debriefing?"

"Yes, I did. Our mutual acquaintance was able to puzzle out most of the battle afterwards. Whether blessing or instinct, he says, you fought well."

"Yeah." Jason grimaced as he got up. The Headmaster gestured him to Louise's table, where both chairs had been pulled out and a tall glass was waiting by each chair. Jason took a sip to discover what seemed to be a very light wine combined with something like a frozen lime sherbet. It was cold, tart, extremely refreshing, and he emptied a quarter of the glass before continuing. "And if I'd just told Louise flat-out, instead of trying to keep things back, none of this would have been necessary."

Osmond frowned and took a sip from his glass. "By then, keeping the secret was a fool's hope - but wisdom takes time and often pain to develop. Nonetheless your larger aim seems preserved. Mr. Ryise has been assigned quarters, and will be beginning classes today. With sufficient diligence he will have caught up with the other 1st Form students by the time they return at the end of the summer break."

"Ah. Bet he'll _love_ that."

"He is certainly in a position to learn many things. Now, the young lady we were all so concerned about is a talented healer, but she lacks training with Earth, which governs bone. I thought it best to check for myself and repair anything she missed."

"_Did_ she miss anything?"

"Your bones yet suffered some few fractures, but nothing serious. I was also able to confirm that you were under the influence of magic that improved your ability to fight."

"What kind of magic?"

"I am afraid it will take time to determine, as I have never seen the spell that was used on you. It is likely to be a manifestation of your unique talents as a familiar." The old man paused. "The magic manifested by each familiar is almost always well-suited to the life that the master leads."

"Oh." Jason grimaced and took what was honestly a gulp of the drink. "So if she has a talent for getting into trouble, I can't expect to always get her out without fighting."

The Headmaster nodded. "Likely correct. How do you feel about that?"

"I had to kill half-a-dozen men last night, and . . . you know, if I'd stopped the girls from reaching the ambush point, King James would still be a draugr serving Reconquista. Maybe it's better this way."

"It is better for an enemy to perish than to let that enemy destroy what you love," Osmond agreed. "Usually. Take care that what you love does not become unworthy of the blood on your hands." He held up a hand as Jason opened his mouth to object. "I am not criticizing your master or who she is loyal to. Simply do not be blind in your devotion.

"Now, most familiars do not develop as battle-companions, but some do, and there are established regimens of spell and potion to enhance all the known species of battle-worthy familiar. The Zerbst girl, for example, has a number of different regimens to select from.

"Yet she may choose none of them. Fire Mountain salamanders do not breed in captivity, but familiars can. However, the most effective regimens unbalance the familiar: A familiar adapted to battle may lack the interest or ability to breed. And crossbred salamanders are only slightly less valuable than a pure Fire Mountain specimen would be."

The Headmaster looked down into his glass for a moment, then set it on the table and gave Jason a serious look. "Human soldiers face similar limitations. The Emperor of Germania is guarded by soldiers ten feet tall – but they are castrated as children and treated with a complex regimen that grants them inhuman strength and speed while dulling the mind to anything save battle."

Jason took a sip to hide his expression. "I'm a bit old for that, I think."

"There are other possibilities. Nonetheless the most effective choices always require a sacrifice on the part of the soldier. And thus we come to your misadventure last night."

"My – oh!" Jason paled. "I hadn't considered that. You think this new power will warp me like that?"

"I cannot be certain – as I said, I have never seen the exact spell that influenced you. But I would advise caution. You have been working with Jean Colbert, and if he is amenable I would advise training with him as well."

"Sounds good." He paused a moment. "You said the 'most' effective. Are there regimens where the side-effects aren't so drastic?"

The Headmaster nodded. "There are spells of each element that strengthen the body. Muscle may be strengthened, skin and bone may be toughened, reflexes may be quickened, and endurance may be lengthened. However, the effect is not so pronounced as a full regimen, and the spells must be applied repeatedly for the maximum permanent effect."

"Applied repeatedly . . . so it would be an expensive series of treatments, applied over time, for less effect."

"In essence. Such treatments were used more before the Easterlings brought their alchemical expertise to Halkegenia, but the expense meant that such enhancements were rare even then – the mark of the truly elite or truly rich."

Jason nodded. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you don't really have the time to apply these spells to me."

Osmond raised an eyebrow. "I could. But you do not need the attentions of a Square-class mage. Any competent Dot could learn and apply the initial spells of their appropriate element, if they had copies to study from."

"So that's up to me to pursue if I decide to."

"Indeed. The sad truth is that I can only go to so much trouble for any one person, even for someone connected with the Vallière family as you are."

"Oh." Jason drained his cup and screwed up his courage. "Speaking of which, if I may ask – why was I not, er, _leashed_?"

The Headmaster smiled slightly. "You were observed closely, of course. Imagine my delight when you were able to make yourself understood to people other than your master – and then my disappointment when you could not communicate with the other familiars."

"The other familiars?" Jason considered it a moment. "That _would_ be useful, wouldn't it?"

"Verily. I was waiting to discover what else you might do when, all of a sudden, your master started being able to use basic spells. A result of _your_ counsel, even. Not exactly what I wished to learn, but it greatly eased the tensions between the Academy and the Vallières."

"Was that – oh, yes, of _course_ that was important. Louise's sisters are already Lines, and she wasn't able to do a thing. The Academy must have been a last chance to salvage her."

Osmond tilted his head in a half-nod. "Ask Louise, some time, of the special instruction she was singled out for as a 1st Form. In the end, I was privately convinced she _had_ magic, but none of the experts I consulted were able to figure out how to unlock it. It was a great deal of money spent for little result, and her parents were quite upset at the wasted expense."

"So . . . there I was, inspiring Louise to succeed, at least to a degree. Don't try to fix what works?"

"So I argued. It helped, as I said the other day, that you have not abused your proximity to your master."

The Headmaster gestured for Jason to put his empty glass on a tray that was lying on the table, and set his own glass beside it. Then he stood up and picked up the tray, making to leave.

"Speaking of discretion," Jason said before Osmond could go out the door, "if anyone notices that you visited me this morning, what should I tell them?"

"You need not worry. I can move about the Academy unseen if I wish." With that the old mage was out the door.

Jason leapt out of the chair and dashed to the door. _Okay, how's he gonna do that? Invisibility, teleport, secret passage . . ?_

But the Headmaster was already gone from the hallway by the time Jason got the door open. The only person in the hall was an extremely curvy maid, carrying a . . . tray. With two empty glasses. She turned her head, winked at Jason, and sashayed her way out of the hall.

Jason stood there for a moment, blinked, and then stepped back and closed the door. _He's . . . he's mastered the Mirror. The Headmaster is an evil genius. And he could be anyone, anytime, anywhere._

He stumbled back to the table and collapsed into a chair. "I don't care if I can't handle alcohol well – I want to get blind, stinking drunk."

He then looked to where Louise kept her private stash of wine, and – "No. I've gotta be close to my limit from that one glass. Stupid genetics." Looking around – "And he took back the stuff he lent me. Okay, expected that much.

"Ugh. Crazy old man. How does the staff _deal_ with him?"

* * *

Jason did not have long to brood before Siesta came in and immediately rushed over to his side.

"They said you took ill last night!" she exclaimed, feeling his forehead. "At least it's not fever – but you never went down for water, and-" she looked over at the buckets, where two of the four stood mostly full. "And you didn't feel well enough to wash up – you _always_ do that before bed!" She wrapped herself around one arm and almost managed to unbalance him as she pulled. "Come on! Let's get you back into bed and then I'll take care of everything until you feel better."

Looking into her eyes from such close range, wide and earnest as they were, was so distracting that he had to look away. "I'm not sick, Siesta. I feel much better today."

"You'd say that anyway! Come on, get up, you need to be back in bed!" And somehow she was managing to cling to his arm even tighter.

_Okay, I'm not _that_ unreasonable, am I? What is she – wait a second. Oh, dammit, rule 34._

Well, maybe. How to tell- ["Louise? Are you awake by any chance?"]

["J-Jason? I – yes, awake. I'm awake!"] For some reason she sounded rather flustered.

["Are you okay?"]

["I'm fine!"] Louise 'yelped'. ["I had breakfast with Henrietta earlier, she's holding up well, and you're the only one who was seriously hurt. How are _you_?"]

["Much better, thank you. But on a related note – do any of Siesta's books feature a wounded or ill hero who recovers quickly enough to seduce his caring and very, _very_ attentive nurse?"]

. . .

["I'm going to get a pegasus right now, I'll be back as soon as I can, don't you _dare_ let her do anything she shouldn't!"]

_Ah, possessive jealousy. So often condemned as a bad thing, but I don't think I'll complain. As least not as long as she's willing to get back to the sloppy make-out session we were distracted from last night._

"Jason?" Siesta had maneuvered around to face him again, and having a girl draped over him was all sorts of pleasant distraction, but it was the _wrong girl_, and Louise was on her way back, and how was he going to-!

"Siesta, could you fetch me my notebook? The one on the top of the pile?"

"You need your notebook for bed?"

"No, no, I've just got some things I need to write down so I don't forget them."

Siesta gave him a disbelieving look, but unwrapped herself from around him and flounced over to fetch the notebook. She held it out, just out of reach. "Now, when you're done, you have to promise that you'll rest. You don't want to get sick again!"

"Yes, fine, I'll make sure I get more rest." _And since duke's daughter trumps maid, hopefully I'll be getting into trouble with the correct girl at that time._

_Wait, no, dammit to hell I don't dare. Urgh. This sucks._

"Are you actually going to write anything?" Of course she was looking over his shoulder.

"Yes, yes, I just needed to organize my thoughts." _Okay, Louise has explosions, but they didn't work against King James, so we need something to go along with the explosions . . ._

Jason started jotting ideas down as he brainstormed, only for – "I can't read any of that! Those aren't even letters."

"It's in my language, Siesta. Since I'm the only one in Halkegenia who speaks English, it's an unbreakable cipher."

"Why do you need a cipher?"

He grinned. "Maybe because most of my friends around here are girls?"

She hit him on the shoulder. "So, what are you writing about, anyway?"

"Ideas for how to help Louise train her magic. And, no offense, the details for that should really stay private, just in case she has to surprise someone."

"Oh." And with that Siesta went quiet.

_But I do need to clarify things quickly. That was a pretty clear offer of – hell, offer nothing, Siesta was _literally_ trying to wrestle me into bed. I should take her up or turn her down before she loses interest on her own – I mean, it'd be pretty horrible of me to string her along for months on end while I'm trying to make something work with Louise._

_But – what happens if I – _ooh_, that would be _evil_!_ He jotted down the idea. _I hope Mr. Colbert doesn't complain how lethal she'll be with that. Anyway, Louise gets jealous. What happens if she decides she can't be with me, not even as her dirty little secret?_

_I need a backup. Can't be at the Academy, can't be anyone noble, so . . . Scarron. Dammit__.__ Eh, hell with it, he's okay when he's not putting on a show. But I don't want to wash dishes all my life, and I'm supposed to be smart enough to teach a noblewoman, so what kind of white-collar work can I . . ._

_Numbers. The local system works a lot like roman numerals, which means even arithmetic like division is a pain in the ass. They might not even have double-entry bookkeeping._

He jotted down a quick sketch of debits and credits – _yep, still remember how to do it. Okay, no one gets to learn how Hindu numerals work until I've had a chance to make money off them. _Definitely_ not teaching any unscrupulous bankers just for a loan concession._

_So, keep the math to myself for a while, that makes me the genius who can do impossibly hard problems in my head. Then-_

Siesta rapped him on the head to get his attention. "You shouldn't be thinking so hard," she scolded.

"Uh, I really do need to be-"

"If you weren't so wrapped up in whatever it is, you would have heard the door open!"

"The door-?" but when he looked around, the door was closed. There was, however, a large pot of something that smelled utterly _delicious_ on the table.

"They sent an order to the kitchen to prepare an invalid's hot pot for you. So I knew you'd taken ill last night." Siesta picked up a small bowl and dipped it into the pot. "Open wide," she said with a smile.

Jason gave her a flat look in response. "Okay, no. I am not an invalid, and I am perfectly capable of feeding myself."

Siesta pouted and held the bowl out of reach.

He closed his eyes in exasperation. ["Louise, please tell me you'll be here soon. She's standing between me and food!"]

["I'm already here."] With that his head whipped around and – there Louise was, by the now-open window, silently shaking from laughter.

Jason rolled his eyes. "So. Apparently I'm deaf and blind today."

Siesta looked in the same direction, and her eyes widened a bit to see Louise there suddenly. Louise, smirking, held out her hand and gestured for the bowl Siesta was holding. "This is how you do it," she said. "Jason: Heel!"

He gaped at her for a moment, and then his stomach rumbled. _Hell with it_. Grabbing the pot – fortunately not quite hot enough to burn, if not exactly pleasant to hold – he tilted it up and began to guzzle from it directly.

Eventually he set the pot down and, wiping his mouth off, smiled at the girls, who looked shocked and disapproving, respectively. "Liver and onions? That has to be the tastiest dish I've had since coming here."

"You like meat?" Siesta sounded _very_ confused. "You never have anything but porridge."

"I didn't get to be as big as I was on porridge, Siesta." Louise was still frowning at him, so he locked eyes with her. ["Yes, Louise? Something to say?"]

["Why didn't you cooperate?"]

["I may be yours, little lady, but I am _not_ your dog."]

Siesta, glancing between the two of them, chose that moment to speak again: "I sent a message to my uncle about that minstrel you wanted. I hope to hear a reply tomorrow."

Louise broke off her glare at this sudden digression. "Minstrel?" she wanted to know.

Siesta put an expression of wide-eyed innocence and nodded vigorously. "Jason offered to read to me if I'd ask Uncle Scarron to find a good minstrel for him."

Louise's glare was back and intensified. "Y-you r-read one of h-her _b-books_?!" She was very nearly shouting by the end.

_Oh shit I am in trouble! And if I explain all the context she'll – wait, Siesta is trying to torpedo me with Louise! Oh, I'll . . . figure it out later. Distract now!_ "A very interesting read," he managed to get out without stammering. Louise's glare intensified, so he hurried on. "A beautiful princess is trapped in the clutches of a filthy Germanian nobleman, and a brave Albionian is able to rescue her. In the end, nothing . . . illicit happens to her." ["And we both know that's absolutely not the case in real life."]

Louise twitched as the flush on her face changed from anger to embarrassment, and her glare quickly lost most of its force.

"As I recall, I also promised that I'd read a story for you both from one of _my_ books," Jason went on.

Louise tilted her head quizzically. Siesta, smile now rather saucier, broke in with, "And I've been wondering what kind of stories _you_ like."

"High adventure, derring-do, occasionally farce," Jason responded as he retrieved his phone and pulled up the library. "Or did you think I would admit to anything . . . unbecoming in the company of women?"

"Hmph! At least come sit on the bed with us, like last time," Siesta importuned, and while Jason was soon persuaded to this, he was careful to ensure that Louise ended up in the middle, by requesting it of her telepathically.

"Alright," he said when they were all finally arranged. "Some quick explanation. Go high enough and the air thins to nothing, the sky turns blacker than night, and the stars become more and brighter than anything that can be seen from land.

"Go farther still, and the sun recedes until it is no more than one star among countless others, and it becomes evident that within this great nothingness _many_ stars are paired with their own worlds."

Louise inhaled sharply, and he looked down at the top of her head, resting rather comfortably on his shoulder. "You're speaking of Brimir's Void," she said wonderingly, and then with the air of quotation: "'Other worlds have I spoken of, under strange skies and alien suns, and there are others yet to be revealed, for all dwell within my Void, worlds without end.'"

Jason blinked. "I . . . am not familiar with that quotation." _Of course, I haven't exactly been attending the local religious services, have I?_

"Well, you _are_ foreign," she responded practically. "But how do your people ascend to the Void? Airships _can't_ travel to where the air thins for very long."

"The very, _very_ short explanation?" he asked. "Fire. A great deal of fire. And the truth is . . . we haven't developed the tools to travel beyond the governing of our own star. This story," he continued, holding up the phone for a moment, "makes guesses about what it might be like. Heck, some of the guesses are pretty unlikely, and are there to make it easier to write adventure, and so forth.

"Anyway, think ships, but instead of water or air, they travel through the Void. And . . . this is supposed to be a farce of circumstance. If things seem silly, well, that's kind of the point.

"So. A Ship Named Francis. Chapter One: Siberia is a Concept.

"Sean Tyler tapped on the open door to the sickbay and . . ."

* * *

". . . 'Tester,' a nasally voice said over the enunciator, 'spare us this day from Your Tests.

"'Please, Tester, don't let any of the airlocks blow out . . .'"

By the time Jason was done imitating the nasal whine of the character of Chaplain Olds, both girls were shaking with laughter. Oh, Siesta had a slightly horrified look on her face as he went through the list of potential disasters, but she was laughing nonetheless.

And she snorted at the end of the section, where SBA Tyler wondered just how much worse it could get. "That _always_ means things are about to get worse," she explained at Jason's glance. She started snickering again. "'Tester, spare us this day,'" trying for a nasal voice, and that set Louise off again.

* * *

". . . 'He didn't know if it was the reactor alarm or not,' he said, giggling helplessly. 'He's the captain, and he didn't know. Hah-hah. Hah-hah, hee. Uhn hah, Oh My God . . .'"

The girls had apparently begun to figure out how this story worked, for they joined Jason for the next line without prompting.

"'Tester, spare us this day from your Tests . . .'"

* * *

There was a pause after Jason finished the story. Then: "Is there more?" Louise wanted to know.

"Weeeeeeell," Jason hesitated. "Not about those characters specifically. It's a side-story for a much, much longer saga."

"So, you'll be reading us that, then?" Siesta rather more _demanded_ than asked.

"Too long for that, I'm afraid. What I should probably do is use the typewriter Mr. Colbert is going to be working on and get some of these books down on paper before this thing breaks, but . . . eh. Time. Louise and I are probably going to be training hard for the summer."

Siesta was clearly disappointed, but then Louise looked up at her. "He'll find time," she promised.

Siesta nodded and got off the bed. "Do you think you can eat some more? They said it was best if I could get you to eat the entire pot."

"That depends. Are we going to argue about if I can feed myself this time?"

The soup – or perhaps stew – was frankly overdone, everything boiled to the point of mush, but it _had_ been made as if for an invalid. And if it was somewhat cooled, it was still infinitely tastier than the bland mush that had been the mainstay of Jason's meals for the last few months. Eating had almost entirely ceased to be a pleasure of his.

It had also been a good while since he'd been given enough to feel full, and it didn't take nearly as much food as it would have back on Earth. Progress in shrinking his belly, hopefully.

Siesta's official reason to be there had been to make sure Jason actually ate. If her duties were lighter during the summer months, there were still enough of them that she felt unable to linger any further, so after Jason was finished she left, taking the pot and bowl with her.

Of course, this meant that Jason and Louise were alone together. His heart was suddenly pounding, and his mouth felt dry to the point of choking. _And, tasty as it was, I've just had a big bowl of stew with liver and onions._

So he got up, got a drink of water, and used mouthwash to replace any lingering unwanted odors. Louise just stood there by the bed, watching him, face gone very still.

All in all, it took very little time – not nearly enough to settle him down. For a long moment, they stared at each other, neither saying anything.

Finally: "I must confess, mistress, that I am very tempted to go over there and kiss you."

Louise reddened, shut her eyes and bowed her head. Jason waited, heart pounding even harder, scarcely daring to breathe.

Then she raised her head, but her eyes were still closed. "T-to even s-suggest such sh-shameful . . ."

His heart plummeted. "Right," he said. "Of course. I shouldn't ha-"

"Jason!" her eyes snapped open and her face flushed even darker as she interrupted him. "I – I am –" and while her lips moved, she couldn't seem to speak. "Very-" she finally managed in a harsh whisper, "-tempted to let you."

"You-" But then inspiration struck, and he walked over to her and knelt down, so that she was now an inch or so taller than him. She held still as he pushed an errant lock of her hair back into place, but trembled as he cupped her cheek with the same hand. "So tell me," he murmured, "how tempted _are_ you?"

Her eyes widened, but she cupped his cheeks with both hands, screwed her eyes shut, and leaned in.

A little while later they both pulled back, gasping for air. Louise finally opened her eyes, and Jason smiled at her – only to grunt as she lunged for him a second time. This time she was leaning on him to the point that he had to shift from holding her to holding her _up_.

Finally she pulled back from the second kiss, just far enough to rest her forehead against his.

"This shouldn't be happening," she mumbled. "It's an impossible situation."

"Everything about me being here is impossible," he responded. "But I am _not_ sorry it is happening, mis- . . . my lady."

This change in address earned him a third kiss and more of her weight as she continued to slump against him. Finally, after her lips slipped off of his, he'd had enough of that, so he stood up and, cradling her in his arms, sat down in one of the chairs.

"There," he said. "If I'm going to hold you up, you can sit in my lap." It certainly did not hurt that she was very conveniently placed to tilt her head back and receive another kiss. And afterwards she was able to rest her head against his chest, an action they both apparently found very enjoyable.

But finally Louise mustered up the will to try to ruin everything again. "This really _is_ impossible. I – we can't – you can't-"

"I can't be your dirty little secret?" he interrupted to suggest.

"You aren't dirty," she grumped. "Or little."

"Well, no. Would it be better if I was?"

"It would be easier." Louise gave him a very light nip. "Why do you have to be so obsessed with being clean? Is that the only thing your rule was concerned with?"

"My 'rule'?"

"Your discipline. As a scholar."

"Ah. Not so much – it's just that I started living with a woman a few months back, so keeping myself clean became very important."

"That was for _me_?"

"Well, yes, in essence."

"But," she looked at him, confused and a bit exasperated. "You brought soap for your body, and soap for your hair, _and_ soap for shaving, _and_ soap for your armpits, and even soap for your _teeth_! And then you rub your body with spirits afterwards, and you even have that fire-mint wash to clean the rest of your mouth!"

"Well – okay, yes, staying clean is important where I'm from. I just didn't do all of it as frequently."

"_Obviously_. You almost looked ready to throw up after you brought up the buckets the first time."

"It _was_ good exercise. But that's not what I meant by 'dirty little secret', and I think you know that."

"Jean-Jacques Wardes is the right kind of man for me to marry. You – my parents – it's impossible!"

"No, only very difficult. If we're to be part of Germania, then even a 'mere commoner' can hope to win an appropriately impressive title. Your parents might not be too happy, but tell me: _Would_ they be able to express their objections _lethally_?"

Louise froze for a moment, then: "I don't . . . I don't know. They should respect any title, but . . . my mother can be very scary sometimes."

"I can accept scary in-laws, as long as they aren't throwing spells at me."

She nodded into his chest. "Maybe it can work – but that means Henrietta will have married the Imperial Heir."

"Ah – yes. Which she already agreed to."

Louise closed her eyes. "She shouldn't have to. I – I wish she could marry as it pleased her to."

"I understand, Louise. Truly. For me, I'm grateful the decision was made well before I met her Highness, or knew anything about Halkegenian politics."

Louise made an unhappy noise, but her arms around Jason tightened a little. "I'm glad I didn't know until it was decided either," she finally admitted.

He kissed her on the top of her head. "Fair enough," he allowed.

"And . . . what do I do about Jean-Jacques? I . . . still care for him."

"Well – want to hear a confession?" She looked up at this offer, curious. "When I was a little younger than you, there was this girl who I fell in love with. I was ready to plan my entire future around her – and then her parents moved far away, and I was convinced I would die of a broken heart.

"Then I met another girl who was very fond of magic tricks, and I decided that maybe life wasn't so bad."

"What happened with _her_?" Louise's voice was surprisingly disdainful.

_Oh, wait, that's one of the rules, isn't it? Don't brag about previous girlfriends. Crap. Maybe this wasn't a good idea._

"Ultimately? Nothing. A little after that she was able to do something she'd always dreamed of, and then she didn't have time to spend with me. And then Dad took me fishing, and taught me a little bit about getting over people."

"What does that have to do with Jean-Jacques?"

"Well – I still wish them both well. The thing is, I'm not in love with either of them anymore. I haven't been for years. Even before I met you, if one of them had suddenly re-appeared in my life, I'm not convinced I'd _want_ to fall back in love.

"So I guess that's my point. You _will_ move on with your life, even if it doesn't seem like it'll be easy."

"It might not be _that_ hard."

"Oh?" A note of . . . _something_ rumbled into Jason's voice. "Louise, what has he done?"

"Nothing much! He just . . . I don't know where to begin."

"How about the point where he 'just' did anything you didn't want?"

"We already talked about that."

"Eh?"

"It _started_ when we were riding to La Rochelle. Some of his questions were a little . . ."

"Right, you did tell me about that."

"Ever since then, the way he acts around me reminds me of Eléonore."

"Your sister? The one _that's mean to you_?"

"Jason, _please_ be calm."

That made him realize he was tensing up quite a bit, so he deliberately relaxed. "Sorry about that."

"He was polite enough when we returned from Albion, but then when we went back to the palace this morning he was . . . cold. I felt almost like a rabbit caught out in the open, with a hawk circling overhead."

Jason relaxed a little more. "Okay, that's something else Dad pointed out to me. Sometimes, the image that you build up of a person may not have much to do with how that person really is. Or who they become. To be fair, though, if I were in his place I would have been upset myself. How _did_ you get by him, anyway?"

"Well, we-" Louise shut up for a moment. "Maybe I shouldn't say. What if I need to use it again?"

"Would it _work_ again on War- oh. You mean you might need to use it on _me_."

Louise nodded and giggled just a bit at his tone.

"You know, when I woke up today I didn't think I'd be feeling _anything_ like sympathy for Captain Wardes, but – you two _are_ a menace to yourselves."

"We aren't-" Louise was quiet for a long moment. "Didn't you say you had a surprise for me when I got back?"

Jason chuckled. "Yeah, it's the scroll over on the armoire. Go get it, would you?"

Louise pulled out her wand and levitated the scroll over to the table. Jason looked down at her quizzically. "'m already comfortable," she mumbled into his shirt.

"Right." He opened the scroll, and there turned out to be a pouch filled with seeds inside the scroll. He studied the scroll for a bit. "You probably want to read this. It's a spell, and if I'm not mistaken the description includes a poem that implies it uses all four elements." Mistaken about it being a poem, that is. Rhythm and rhyme just could not translate well.

Louise grumbled wordlessly, but rotated to face the table, causing Jason to wince silently as one hip ground into his lap. _Oh well, I'll use the call of nature as an excuse in a little bit to get everything untangled._

The spell seemed simple enough – direct magic into a seed while chanting – but when Louise tried it, the seed quickly flared up, burning into ash in just a few seconds. This was repeated a dozen times before, seeing that Louise was frustrated almost to the point of tears, Jason called the experiment off for the rest of the day.

"We'll be going to see Mr. Colbert in the morning," he pointed out. "And the Headmaster said he could help you figure out how to cast it."

Louise was still unhappy, but she nodded agreement with this plan, and switched to practicing spells that she was having less trouble with.

* * *

Jason picked up Louise's dinner that evening, accepting as well the remnants of the stew that they'd made for him. Given the exertions of the previous day, the two planned to make an early night of it.

It became apparent that Louise hadn't really thought things through when he helped her undress. Jason turned back to her, chemise in hand, and it struck them both at the same time that Louise was standing in from of him wearing nothing but panties.

As she had done, most every evening, for a few months now.

_Wow. When she blushes it goes all the way down to her belly-button._

He couldn't help but smile a little. "So – I'm going to guess that it _is_ like having a boy in your room?"

Louise whimpered as she quickly covered her chest with her hands, and spun around.

Jason waited for her to say something, but finally gave up. "Louise? It's okay. I'm not expecting to take advantage. Can I go ahead and put this on you?"

She was silent for another long moment, and then: "Jason, how long have you . . . cared for me?"

He blinked. "I . . . a while. I've been holding it at arms' length, I guess, since I didn't know how you'd respond."

"Oh. Is _that_ why you haven't tried anything since that night with Kirche?"

"I've been trying to walk softly around the subject, yes." Jason tilted his head. "Louise, is there something you want to ask me?"

"I . . ." she shook her head.

_Okay, brain, you're up. Puzzle this out. What do the clues point to?_

. . .

_Dammit, brain._

"Louise?" he tried putting a hand on her shoulder, but she flinched and he jerked it back. "Um – I can tell there's a problem, but . . . look, I can't think very clearly with you standing there like that. Can I please put this on you?"

She took a deep breath, and then slowly put her arms down. "Jason, I want one of your shirts tonight."

". . . Okay."

He couldn't help but notice that her shoulders were still especially tense, so after dressing her he led Louise to one of the chairs and had her sit down sideways.

"What are you doing?" she wanted to know as he sat down in the other chair behind her.

"Well, you seem – I guess I _should_ ask first. I want to give you a backrub."

"A _what_?"

"Um – a light massage, intended to help you relax before you go to bed. Is that okay?"

Louise hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

* * *

By all the evidence it continued to be okay, since by the time Jason was done Louise had managed to scoot her way back to the point of sitting in his lap once more and relaxing against him.

_So she's a cuddler_, he thought as he carried her to bed and tucked her in. _Not a problem. Really. We could get used to it in no time at all__._

He turned out the light, lay down on his mattress, closed his eyes – and then grunted as Louise dropped what had to be a substantial percentage of her weight on his chest as she lay down next to him.

"Wha-?"

"I've always slept better next to someone," she mumbled.

"Okay, but I don't think-" he cut off as the pull of her summons blossomed again in his mind – and there she was, right next to him, and it felt like he was _exactly_ where he needed to be.

_You fight dirty, Louise._ Still, given everything . . . "Alright. Sleep well, my lady."

* * *

**A/N**: Yeah, this took a little too long to write. In my defense, it involved more than one _re_write.

In any event, we're almost a hundred thousand words in, so it was about time for the relationship to develop. As for continuing drama? Some obvious items I can bring in: Angry parents, Siesta, Wardes, and the hang-ups of both Jason and Louise. Not to mention the fact that the narrative weight of canon is geared towards harem-tease.


End file.
